Mirror Image
by Homicide-Inside
Summary: They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? Now, The Other Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.
1. Prologue

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: I have kept this plot in my head for years. Long have I waited until I found the right show. Thank God for Torchwood.

* * *

**Prologue**

He ran as far as his legs could take him, his feet barely touching the ground. He could hear the sirens wailing from a distance, and the loudness of the alarms only tempted him to fly. He turned in every corner, hoping to mislead those after him. He knew each nook and cranny of the streets, and most of the time knew exactly where to hide. _Most of the time_. There were moments wherein he overlooked a certain detail, or failed to plan thoroughly his wrong intentions, and it was at those times where he would end up waiting for bail behind bars.

But this night, he felt extremely lucky.

He sharply turned to a corner leading to an alleyway, one with a wall at the far end. He jumped and grabbed the top of the wall, pulling himself up and out the other side. From afar, he could spot a small warehouse and immediately sprinted towards it. As he neared the metal housing, the sound of his pursuers died down to a complete silence and he grinned inwardly in triumph.

When he reached the entrance of the warehouse, he quickly, albeit noisily, closed the door and barred it shut. His gasps for air were what resonated in the building, and his heart pushed against his ribcage from that intense chase, threatening to jump out of his chest. But he couldn't die at that moment, oh no. Not when he had stolen the most amazing artifact from an antique shop.

He glanced at his black sling bag and took out that which was placed inside—a mirror. He was told rumors and legends about this object; stories that told of alternate dimensions and other selves. How could he be not intrigued? He absolutely hated, from the bottom of his heart, this pathetic wasteland he had put up with for so long.

He had tried to find ways to leave; to disappear from this place and never come back. He never was successful, as if he was tied down by demons that utterly refuse to let him go free and let him be tormented by memories so painful he could just die. Not like he hasn't tried to before.

Now, he can finally be freed from those chains that bind him. All hope was at hand's grasp, and nothing could stop him now.

* * *

**Further Author's Notes:** Read and review, please? :)


	2. Chapter One: The Rift

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies. I do, however, own the legend Ianto relates to Jack and Tosh.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: I _do _find Ianto using formalities on Jack quite endearing.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Tosh, are we close?" Jack queried, arms outstretched and hands gripping firmly on his gun. His head turned from left to right, constantly vigilant for surprise alien attacks. Tosh checked her PDA and answered, "Just a few meters ahead."

Ianto, unusually unfazed by the situation, examined the old portraits that adorned the peeling walls and the dusty and rusty furniture that were still competent for providing a fortune to whoever would dare steal it, that is if they weren't too scared believing that old legend fathers would tell to their children to make them go to bed early. "I guess this proves the legend quite true," he whispered, feeling real gold under his fingertips when he picked up an old candlestick from a small table. He never quite learned the story through his father, honestly; he had to chance upon it in the archives. But Ianto vividly remembered his father's constant chatter about his desire for all his troubles to disappear '_just like in that old castle_'. Ianto clicked his tongue when he also recalled him being one of those troubles his father would like to be rid of. Jack spun around and eyed him with interest, freeing him from the bitter memories. "What legend is that?"

"No one really gave it a proper title," he replied, setting the candlestick back down. "I prefer to call it the _Haunted Abandoned Castle Situated in the Haunted Forest No One Ever Goes to Because of What Happened Centuries Ago_ legend."

Tosh couldn't help but giggle at her companion's dry humor, all said in such a straight and calm manner. Jack leans his back against the wall. "So, what happened centuries ago?"

Ianto tried to summarize what he had read before. "This queendom had been just like any other queendom in the world, with a just and beautiful queen, a faithful and noble king, loyal and brave soldiers, and hardworking servants. It was actually too perfect, you could say. But when Queen Genevieve ascended to the throne, strange things started to happen. Servants disappeared here and there, never to have been heard of again. The Queen had hired more servants, but they all just kept vanishing into thin air. She sent her soldiers to investigate, but they, too, had gone. The Queen had noticed the pattern of their disappearances eventually, and concluded that it would take place only when they went to the left wing of the 3rd floor. The brave King, wanting to soothe his wife's nerves, went to see for himself the cause."

"But he never came back." Jack more of said than questioned.

Ianto nodded. "Distraught, the Queen looked for him, and, of course, she too vanished. The survivors abandoned the castle and the whole queendom collapsed. No one mentioned it for a while, but someone eventually cracked. Of course, people regarded it as a crazy man's tale, but gaining popularity and intrigue, soon became a legend. And sometimes a scary story for naughty and disobedient children."

"All that because of a rift?" Tosh was amazed. She had always known that rifts left aliens from other worlds into theirs, but she had never thought about rifts taking things as well. She looked at Jack who pushed himself off the wall. "The better question is," he said as he dusted off the filth on his coat, "how come we only sensed its activity _now_?"

Tosh wondered. She couldn't have overlooked it. She was, in fact, always on rift watch and she was confident that Torchwood's science never disappoints. If she couldn't pick it up, it didn't exist. Feeling as though the question was directed at her, she proposed a guess. "Perhaps it's been too long since it last abducted a person that it just closed off?"

"Like a computer." Ianto smiled at Tosh. "It first flashes a screensaver before it goes on standby."

"But it isn't entirely off," Jack continued, "When one person moves the mouse, it magically turns back on again."

There was a beat of silence before Owen's voice boomed over the comms. "Jack! Alien ambush!" Jack rolled his eyes. "Just what we needed. Where are you now?"

"Staircase. We're finishing off the buggers—oh shit!" The three heard a rustling noise and distant screeches from the far end of the corridor. Gwen's voice sounded. "They're coming your way, Jack!"

Tosh, Ianto and Jack lifted their guns in defense and awaited the arrival of whatever alien creature is rampaging about. A few moments later, a thump was heard. Then, there were muffled steps growing louder as it neared the triad. Ianto, being in the front, gulped and squinted his eyes as he saw the figure's outline in the shadows. He readied to pull the trigger when, suddenly, emerging from the darkness came a rabbit. Ianto blinked and lowered his gun.

"Is that a rabbit?" Tosh asked with much skepticism, gun still pointed towards the animal. The rabbit with white fur, red beady eyes and a pink nose hopped and twitched its whiskers, its ears flopping about. It looked at Ianto and cocked its head to the side. He stifled a chuckle.

"Ianto, be careful," Jack warned. "It's a trick."

But before Ianto could regain his composure, the rabbit began a gruesome transformation, its paws expanding and stretching until they became muscled limbs, claws growing into sharp blades the size of butcher's knives, and its buckteeth becoming as large as forest axes. It growled and flung its arm at Ianto, sending him flying backwards past Tosh and Jack. "Ow, fuck…" he drawled out, clutching his throbbing sides.

Jack and Tosh started shooting the creature, taking careful steps backwards as each bullet sank inside its body, its screams of pain resonating the hall. Jack called out to Ianto, unmasking the concern evident in his voice. "Ianto, are you okay?" Ianto groaned and opened his eyes, searching for his gun to help his teammates. "I'm fine, sir…"

"All this commotion and you still manage to use formalities on me," Jack tried to joke, but he was too focused on finishing off the monster before them. "Jack, incoming!" Tosh yelled after they had blown off the rabbit alien's head. Ianto wiped the blood on his lip and staggered to lift himself off the floor, and when his eyes caught sight of his gun inside a room he was in front of, he crawled towards it.

The room looked like a storeroom for children's playthings, and the sight of all the Queen's, and possibly of those before her, dolls and boardgames and miniature houses stacked up and left to dust on the shelves that lined all four walls. Ianto stood and let his eyes wander, slowly understanding why the Queen would constantly send her servants to this certain area of the castle. Why, if you had items from the past that would bring you such blissful memories, you would want to see and hold that object again, wouldn't you? The increasing volume of the alien's pained screeching and the gun shots firing wakes him up from his trance and he sharply turns his head to his right where he sees his reflection on a mirror. The table it was fixed on was on that fitted a princess, and what stunned Ianto was how it still stayed intact and uncontaminated despite the number of years it had stayed here. _This must be the rift,_ he thought. He opened the drawers in curiosity, but found nothing but hair accessories and make up. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

_I should be getting back to them, _he told himself before looking up to his reflection once again. At least, he _expected_ it to be his reflection.

"Oh my god," he spat in surprise as he saw his own self staring back at him, only they were wearing different clothes, and the expression on the man in the mirror was of anger and not of disbelief like what Ianto had. He looked down at his garments and slid his hands down from his vest to his dress pants before looking up to the mirror once again. The other had done the exact thing. Ianto gulped and, hesitantly, placed his hand on the cold surface of the looking glass, seemingly touching the other's hand that had placed it parallel to him as well. But as Ianto was processing the sight before him, his reflection's hand went through the mirror and grabbed the collar of his polo.

"Captain!" Ianto yelled before his mouth was covered with the other hand. He tried to wriggle away, muffling out names of his teammates, but he realized how useless it was with his cries drowning from the loud ruckus going on outside the room. Helpless, he shut his eyes just as he was pulled in through the looking glass, unknowing what would become of him, with only one name in his mind.

_Jack!_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Notes**: The person in the prologue is, yes, _The Other Ianto_ whose name will be revealed soon enough. :) Read and review, please!_  
_


	3. Chapter Two: After Effects

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: Passing through a Mirror Rift has its negative effects. This includes nausea, the feeling of vertigo, weakness of the body, torn garments, wounds, and paralysis. Please exchange places with your reflection with caution. You have been warned.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Ianto felt paralyzed. His body ached all over, and his head throbbed in sync with the fast beating of his heart. His gut twisted and turned, urging him to throw up. He groaned and tried to move from his uncomfortable position, but he only managed a twitch of a finger. His cheek was pressed against cold concrete and he shivered from a draft that had come in suddenly, along with a bright flicker of a light that shone on his face and forced him to open his eyes.

Two police officers were standing above him, both holding up torches and guns pointed directly at him. "If you make a fuss, we'll shoot!" One screamed at him. The other reached down and grabbed his arm, telling him to stand on his feet. When Ianto did as told, he was surprised to see his clothes tattered, and that was when he remembered.

He was investigating a rift activity with Torchwood when an alien had thrown him off to the far end of the hallway. He had gone inside to get his gun when he found the rift that looked like a mirror. Now, what had happened after that?

"You think you can run from us so easily, Ryans?" The one who was handcuffing his wrists spat at him. He laughed. "You sorry sod. We'll have you locked up for _years_." Ianto's breath hitched when he had begun to piece everything together.

He had switched places with his reflection.

The two dragged him out the warehouse, though Ianto had walked willingly, and pushed him into their car. It was a rather disquieting ride with the constant taunting of the two officers, both radiating in pride for, what, capturing him? He could tell by the way the police officers and guards at the station looked at him that his other self was quite infamous.

He was brought inside an interrogation room where he patiently waited for whoever to come in. When the door swung open, Andy came inside. And yet Ianto had to be reminded that he wasn't the gentle hearted Andy he knew when he was grabbed by the hair.

"Oh, look here," he seethed. "Cadell Ryans, back in the house."

_Cadell Ryans_, Ianto repeated in his head. He looked down and read the nametag pinned to Other Andy's shirt. _Pedr Everest._

Pedr released him and walked over to the other end of the table. "So, let's begin by telling me why you stole that expensive artifact." He sat down and placed his foot atop the edge. "I'd like to believe that law offenders have good enough reason why they commit crimes over and over again."

Ianto was speechless. He couldn't lie to him as efficiently as he did to Jack and the others about most things in his private life; he had no clue what he had to lie about. Pedr eyed him suspiciously. "What's the matter, pussy's got your tongue?"

Ianto replied as calmly as he could, "Well, sir, that was rather inappropriate for someone in authority."

Pedr frowned and stood up once again. "You like making jokes, mate? Let's see how humorous this is for you behind bars."

And with that, Ianto was brought to jail, worried about how Torchwood was dealing with this so-called Cadell bloke.

**~.::.~**

Jack turned around when he heard Ianto scream. "Ianto?"

"Jack!" Tosh shouted as another alien stomped towards him. Before Jack could react, a gun fired a bullet at his head from behind, and it collapsed to the ground dead. Jack and Tosh looked up and saw Owen and Gwen walking briskly towards them.

"I think that's the last of them," Owen said, out of breath. "So far."

"Where's Ianto?" Gwen asked. Jack, without a moment to lose, swiftly ran towards the spot Ianto had fallen to earlier before. Tosh checked her PDA and said, "The rift is just up ahead!"

Jack stopped when he couldn't find Ianto where he was supposed to be. Tosh, Gwen and Owen caught up with him as Tosh announced, "It's inside this room!"

Jack glanced at the open door and feared for the worst. If Ianto had fallen into the rift, what are the chances of him getting back? He quickly pushed all worries aside and stepped through the doorway, eyes scanning the dark and dusty room. "Ianto?" He called.

He heard a soft groan and he saw Ianto, or rather, Cadell sprawled out on the floor with his clothes torn and his left hand bleeding.

"Shit!" Jack yelled on impulse as he raced to Cadell's side. He gently flipped him to his back and wiped the dust on his cheek. Owen had begun bandaging his hand while Tosh and Gwen investigated the room. Tosh checked her PDA. "That's weird."

The team looked at her with questioning looks. She held up her gadget and answered them, "I can't pick up the rift signal anymore."

"How's that possible?" Gwen addressed to Jack who was still staring at Ianto. He sighed and looked at her. "If the rift closed off, then we won't have to worry about aliens disguised as cute, furry animals coming out and attacking us."

"Ol' teaboy must have put up quite a struggle," Owen murmured. "He ain't gonna be happy with his suit all tattered up like that."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows when Owen had mentioned Ianto's suit. He touched the torn garments of his and wondered why it didn't seem like the remains of a formal attire. Or perhaps he was just assuming things?

Cadell felt warmth upon his cheek and slowly opened his eyes. He fixed his eyes on Jack, looking down at him with relief. "For a second there, I thought you had fallen through the rift." Cadell's heart skipped a beat when he heard that word: _rift_. Had he done it? Was he gone from that wretched place? Where was he now? What had happened?

He felt his hand sting and he cringed, turning his head to face Owen. He shot him an incredulous look. "Now, don't give me that look, mate." Owen said. "You've suffered worse than this."

Cadell's breath hitched, and he murmured, "Cai?" Owen raised his eyebrows. Cadell looked at the faces surrounding him, and he gritted his teeth. "Get away from me!" He shot up and cried out in pain, clutching his sides as his head throbbed.

"Whoa, relax, Ianto." Gwen said in her soothing voice, rubbing his back gently. Cadell looked at her sharply. _Ianto?_ He questioned himself. _Yes, it was that person I saw in the mirror. Then that would mean that I had done it! Free at last! _He smiled in victory and whispered, "Oh my god."

Jack shot a questioning look at Tosh, then looked at Owen. The doctor only shrugged. Gwen helped Ianto up to his feet and Jack stood to support him.

"We better get you back home," he told him. Cadell had wanted to wrestle away from him, but found no strength to.

He was too happy.

**~.::.~**

Ianto hugged his knees close to his chest. The cold concrete in the cell made him shiver, and his damaged garments weren't of any help. He had no idea what he was in there for, or what might become of him. All the while he hoped that what the Other Ianto did wasn't that grave enough to sentence him to severe punishment. He anxiously looked outside the cell and glared at the alien wearing a police cap and a badge guarding the lock. He had absolutely no way of sneaking out, if he had any intention to. The alien resembled an octopus of some sort, and it could easily catch him.

Ianto buried his face between his chest and knees, and for a moment, he felt like Janet, their weevil being held captive at the Torchwood basement.

Then, he heard the door open. He raised his head and stared at the alien gesturing him out. Ianto pushed himself off the floor and was lead out the cells. He was brought to a room where he saw Andy, no, Pedr, a few other guards and—_Jack?_

Ianto stared at Jack with wide eyes, debating whether or not he was the real Jack, the Jack he knew. It certainly _did_ look like Jack, what with his overcoat and his neatly combed hair. But when Jack glared back at him, his almost smile faltered because he spotted what was wrong. His eyes no longer depicted the emotion of seeing too much for being immortal; it expressed emotion of seeing _Cadell_ do wrong too much for being a sorry sod.

"He's lucky he only stole from an old antique shop," Pedr told the Other Jack. _Other Jack_, Ianto told himself, _because he isn't Jack at all._ "Otherwise, bail money won't suffice. Now, why do I feel like I've said that line so many times?" He looked at Ianto and smirked. "That's right, because I _have_. This kid just never quits, does he?"

Other Jack continued to glower at Ianto, as if willing him to explode in place. Pedr threw a black sling bag to him and said, "Oh, and you have to pay for that artifact, mate. It was broken when we found you." He laughed. "Owner's not going to like the damaged item, but maybe you could enlighten him with cha-ching?"

Ianto sighed. He was getting tired of all the spiteful comments being directed at him even though its shouldn't be. He looked at Other Jack who slammed a fistful of money on the table, and then turned around to briskly walk towards the exit. Ianto quickly followed, evading the looks everyone around him gave.

When they exited the building, Other Jack stopped in front of the car, spun around and shoved Ianto to the ground, much to Ianto's surprise.

"You fucking idiot!" He screamed. "You never stop, do you? God, what is wrong with you?"

Ianto didn't budge. Other Jack groaned slammed his palms against his face. "Why do I even bother hauling my ass over here to save you? I'm fed up with this behavior!"

Ianto slowly stood and rubbed his arm where the pavement met with first. Other Jack massaged his temples before drawing an exasperated sigh. "Get in the car." Ianto obediently did so.

**~.::.~**

Jack pulled up in front of Ianto's flat and helped Cadell out his seat, much to Cadell's chafe. But the feeling of vertigo overpowered him and he let himself be supported. When they entered the flat, Cadell looked around and snorted at how organized the place was. He even whiffed a peppermint scent that filled the room.

Jack gently placed him on his bed and sat on the chair beside it. "You're on leave until you get better." He said. "And yes, that's an order. I don't want you coming in and stumbling all over the place like what you've always done whenever you're sick."

Cadell looked at him and raised his eyebrows. He tried to study this man looking after him. What was his name? He hadn't caught it. _But he definitely isn't Nathan_, Cadell reminded himself. _If he was, he shouldn't be here talking like some domestic wife_.

"Although," Jack mused, "I'm going to miss your coffee tomorrow morning." He laughed. Cadell resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He continued to stare blankly at Jack. Jack frowned and placed a hand atop Cadell's head. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" He managed to say.

"Well, by what I can gather through your appearance, you've been attacked by an alien that came through the rift and somehow got away before we could get to it. Your hand was bleeding when we found you, you called Owen '_Cai_', you screamed at us, but you suddenly smiled when Gwen told you to relax. You're not even talking to me."

Cadell let his words sink in before answering, "There's nothing to say."

"At least tell me you're okay?" Jack requested, placing a hand on Cadell's cheek, who flinched at the touch. "I'm over the moon," he confessed, his hoarse voice betraying his true emotion. Jack chuckled. "Your sarcasm has always been so endearing, Jones."

_Ianto Jones_, Cadell made a mental note.

He was caught off guard when Jack lowered his head and planted a kiss upon his lips. Even though he was, without a shade of a doubt, _not_ Nathan, the entire scene utterly disgusted him. He quickly pushed Jack away and turned to face the other side of the bed. This alarmed Jack, but he shrugged it off, convincing himself that all Ianto needed was a good night's rest. He patted his back and bid him a good night before leaving the flat.

**~.::.~**

During the drive back to wherever, Ianto was seated at the passenger's seat beside a pile of envelopes and papers. He curiously looked at the paper at the top of the stack and browsed through it. It was a request form from a telecommunications company addressed to a Nathan Hearths. Ianto looked up to the Other Jack and whispered, "Nathan."

"What?" He answered. _So, that's him_, Ianto thought. He coughed and replied, "Nothing."

Nathan rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, they had arrived at their destination. Nathan pulled up in front of a small house. They got out of the car and went inside, but when they entered the living room, both men were aghast at the mess. Nathan turned around with a face scrunched up in vexation. "Why can't you keep this place clean for once, Cadell? It's bad enough that all you do is sit around and steal from people, rather than earn the money you deserve!"

He walked to glower at the piles of crushed soda cans all over the floor and shook his head. "I swear to god. If you do this one more time—_one more time_—I'm not going to save your arse. To hell with you, if you do this _one more time_!" He stressed that phrase so greatly that it somehow frightened Ianto a little.

Nathan sat on the couch and buried his face on his palms. "How do I put up with you? _Why_ do I put up with you?"

Ianto hung his head low and wondered what he should say in his other self's behalf. He had to choose his words correctly, wishing not to upset Nathan and yet again receive a smack upside the head or harsh words that would sting. Then he decided with one word. "Sorry," he said as sincerely as possible.

"Yeah, '_sorry_'. As if that would solve any—" He paused, then stared at Ianto dubiously. "You're _sorry_?"

Ianto blinked and nodded his head slowly. Nathan opened his mouth slightly, then gritted his teeth. "Whatever, I don't need this shit." He stood and stomped off up the staircase, leaving Ianto to frown at the mess. He sighed and cringed when he felt his stomach kick. He ran to the toilet and puked.

**~.::.~**

When Cadell was sure he was alone, he rolled off the bed and looked at his bandaged hand. Blood was seeping through and he clicked his tongue. He looked for the loo as he unwrapped the wounded body part. He ran it with cold water and watched the blood go down the drain. _What a lousy way to stop the bleeding_, he thought. _Of course, Cai was always the pathetic one_. Yet, he had to be reminded that Owen _wasn't_ Cai, and those he was with _weren't_ Nathan, Eleri and Miyuki. He grunted when he thought of them. Such bitter memories came flooding in, and he wanted it all to stop.

But he was free now, wasn't he? Free from the pain, the hurt, the sorrow. He was gone from that world where no one was there for him but his own self. _Freedom._ He looked up and stared at his reflection.

**~.::.~**

Ianto washed his mouth with tap water, coughing out remnants of the pizza he and his teammates had eaten earlier that day. He sighed when he thought about them, how they were doing, and if they had realized what was wrong. He was positive Jack could distinguish him from an imposter. He should! After all, Ianto had with Nathan. But perhaps that was because he had learned how to read people's thoughts through their facial expressions. He had done that with Jack countless of times, and he was the hardest to read of all.

And that was when all worries flooded his mind. What if they couldn't see through the façade? Would he be stuck in this alternate world forever?

He stared hard at his reflection.

_He knew he had to stop this._

**~.::.~**

Cadell smirked, and gave out a hearty laugh when he had realized all his hard work had finally paid off.

_He knew no one can stop him._


	4. Chapter Three: Day One

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies. I don't even own Torchwood's Other Selves. They are their reflections, and I don't have much power to own reflections. Or do I?

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: It's time to shed some light on who Cadell is really.

* * *

Forgotten? No, we never do forget.

We let the years go; wash them clean with tears,

Leave them to bleach out in the open day,

Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes,

Till we shall dare unfold them without pain—

But we forget not, never can forget.

-_Dinah Maria Mulock_

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter Three  
**

Ianto blinked and fixed his weary gaze at the alarm clock at the bedside table. It blared 7:11 a.m. Even at his tired state, he still managed to wake up early. He yawned, stretching his arms upward before sitting at the edge of the bed. He stayed in that position for a few minutes letting it all sink in. He had hoped against all hope that everything that had happened the previous night was all a nightmare he would wake up to, but he was disappointed.

He wore clothes he wasn't used to wearing at night. He always slept in jogging pants and a sweater for warmth against the cold temperature of Cardiff. What he had to put up with was a t-shirt that had a picture of a boy peeing and the words _Piss Off_ below it, and a pair of boxers. The thin sheets and the stench of moldy pizza weren't any help at all, either.

He sighed and went on with his early morning rituals. After he had showered—for Ianto was used to taking a bath right after the moment he wakes up so he could head to Torchwood and clean up messes left the night before—he scavenged Cadell's drawers for a decent outfit. He had hoped he would find a suit somewhere beneath the piles of shirts and jackets and khakis, but who was he kidding? He finally settled for a grey, slightly loose long-sleeved shirt and denim jeans. He felt uncomfortable, to say the least. He felt safer when he had 4 layers of clothes on him: an undershirt, his long-sleeved polo shirt, his vest, and his coat. It was as if they concealed what really lied under the façade he usually portrayed. Of course, Jack had always found a way to unravel those secrets.

Ianto, then, proceeded to the Living Room, irked to find so much trash still lying around. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked thoughtfully at the mess. Well, he would still be cleaning at this time of the day, anyway, at the Torchwood Hub, so what difference will it make if he had this place spotless? After all, he, in some heinous way, caused it. He sighed, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and began searching for a broom.

**~.::.~**

Cadell awoke with his lips curved upward. He had never slept so soundly in his life. Waking up to the comfy bed sheets, the snug clothes and the scent of lavender assured him that no, this wasn't a dream at all. It was real.

He pushed the sheets aside and jumped out the bed, stretching his arms energetically to the ceiling. He ran towards the kitchen and raided the cupboards, grabbing anything edible to satisfy his growling stomach, leaving a mess in the process. He bit on a piece of speckled bread and hungrily stuffed leftover Crempogs in his mouth. He brought out the orange juice and drank straight from the bottle, accidentally spilling a few liters on the tiled floor. This didn't bother him at all; he could always hire a maid to clean it up. His reflection _does _seem quite well-off; he had seen the branded suits and shoes in the closet, not to mention he had a job.

He brought the bottle and the plentiful breakfast along with him to the Living Room to watch on the huge plasma TV he had noticed a while ago. Passing by the telephone, he spotted the red button flashing on and off repeatedly. Curious, he pressed it and heard a recorded message.

"_Ianto, it's Rhiannon! I know you're birthday isn't for another month, but I couldn't help myself!_" Cadell hummed. It had slipped his mind that his birthday was coming up. At any rate, he wouldn't be able to celebrate. He didn't exactly have anyone else but Nathan, but that man could care less about him. He always had. Because of these thoughts, he had missed out what this girl was blabbering on and on about. "—_party in that fancy restaurant in London you liked. And before you could argue with me and tell me how I could have used the money for the kids and whatever it is you want to tell me off for, I just wanted to let you know that I had already paid for it! I would—_" Cadell raised his eyebrows. That was quite thoughtful of her, why would his reflection argue with that kind of treatment? He rolled his eyes and thought about how much of a pansy his other self could be. "_—that fellow you keep chattering on about, but I should say that this _should_ be a family night out. But it's your special day, so whatever it is you want, I'll agree with it. All I'm saying is that you have all the time afterwards the party to go gallivanting about and whatever it is you two do in private, anyway, so—_" Cadell had begun to feel annoyed by this lengthy message that he pressed the button to proceed to the next.

"_Ianto, hi,_" Another female voice sounded, "_it's me. I just called to make sure you were okay. If you need anything, we're just a ring away. I'm actually doing this for Jack. He's such a girl sometimes. And we need your coffee!_" She laughed. "_Well, got to go. We need to research more on that rift back at the castle. Take care of yourself._" And then, she hung up.

As soon as Cadell realized that there were no more messages left to hear, he quickly jumped onto the sofa and turned the TV on.

**~.::.~**

Nathan quickly buttoned his long-sleeved polo, glancing at the wall clock every now and then in apprehension. He didn't want to be late to his work, ever. He had always eyed the position of boss—doesn't everyone?—and he couldn't achieve that if he didn't show enough '_commitment_', now, could he? Don't get him wrong; being the vice president of their company was already a huge pleasure, but having to tail behind the boss to make sure his requests are met and so on and so forth wasn't quite what he had in mind.

Nathan grabbed a random tie from his closet and attempted to wear it correctly, but it took so much time and effort that he let it hang messily around his neck. He snatched his coat, his briefcase and dashed out the room. He'd have to skip breakfast again today. _Too bad_, he thought, _I had looked forward to an Egg Muffin_. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the vacuum go off, and he scowled at the high possibility that Cadell had been making a mess in the living room again. He hurriedly ran down the stairs and was ready to yell obscenities when he stopped awestruck at what he saw.

Ianto had been collecting the trash around the area and putting them inside a large plastic bag to be thrown into the garbage can later. He had wiped the tables and the floor, too, and was now vacuuming the carpets and sofa. He saw Nathan by the stairs staring at him wide-eyed and he immediately switched the vacuum cleaner off.

He smiled at Nathan and greated him warmly. "Good morning, sir—ah," he corrected himself, embarrassed at the fact that he still thought Nathan was Jack. "Nathan. Sorry." He rolled down his sleeves and picked up the coffee on the table, handing it to Nathan. "Coffee?"

Al the while, Nathan had been staring skeptically at the sight before him. It all seemed so…wrong. Cadell was _cleaning_ for once, called him _sir_ and made him _coffee_. Did something happen while he was sleeping? Or was he just shitting with him, like what he always does? Nathan frowned and said, voice evident with resentment, "Stop fucking around. What did you do? Poison it? You just can't wait to get rid of me, can you?"

Ianto was taken aback, slightly hurt by the harsh rejection of his coffee. Even as strangers, Jack had drunken it, and complimented him by how great it was. Of course, if Jack had any speculation that it was an act to kill him, he wouldn't have any worries about it. He could always come back. Not that Ianto had any intention to kill the man way back when. He _was_ in fact the surefire ticket to getting into Torchwood Three.

He looked down at his coffee. "I didn't poison it. Why would I?"

"Because that's who you are!" Nathan started running around, as though in search for something.

Ianto sighed, put the mug down and stated as-a-matter-of-factly, "your keys are upstairs."

Nathan paused. "And your phone, and your wallet's inside your briefcase." He now stared at Ianto in hesitation and in question. Ianto merely shrugged. "You wear a suit to work; your coat pockets are where you place your phone and keys which you would place on your bedside table before you sleep. Since you bring nothing else but your briefcase, your wallet must be inside."

"How did you know what I was looking for?"

"You were checking the tables, the key hooks and the drawers."

Nathan only blinked, incredibly amazed by Ianto's observations. He quickly snapped back to his senses and dashed away to his room. Ianto smiled to himself, but suddenly realized how drastic the change was for Cadell to become such a criminal to a courteous and proper man in Nathan's eyes. He should be more careful. The last thing he wanted Nathan to think would be that he was really "_shitting with him_".

When Nathan got back down, he was slightly annoyed. His attire was fixed more properly now, however. "The clock in my room was advanced. Do you think it's funny to make me hurry like that, you son of a bitch?"

Ianto cringed. No wonder people hated Cadell so much. What can he _not_ do that's so evil and wrong? Ianto handed Nathan the cooling cup of coffee as an act of silent truce in behalf of his other self.

Nathan just snorted and walked out the door.

_This is harder than I thought_, Ianto thought, defeated.

**~.::.~**

Cadell banged his head in sync with the beating of the drums in _I Will Not Bow_, a song he instantly favored as soon as he chanced upon it when he surfed channels. He didn't mind the pieces of chips and soda flying around as he air guitared on the sofa. And when the song ended, he literally fell to the floor and panted in tire. He glanced up at the wall clock and couldn't believe how fast the time was going. He couldn't waste the day, oh no. There are so many things he could do. So many places to explore. So many food to eat!

"I have to leave," Cadell whispered to himself audibly, "now."

He jumped to his feet and joyfully skipped to the shower. After scrubbing off the sweat, dirt and blood from last night's hubbub, and rinsing away any evidence of the Other World, he began ransacking Ianto's closet once more. He clicked his tongue in disapproval of how his other self had organized even his garments, separating the work clothes from the '_sane_' clothes, as Cadell had dubbed it. He had only took a gander at the formal attire wardrobe when he was unaware of the other last night as he tried to change into something cozier. He had only managed to grab a loose long-sleeved polo and didn't care for something to cover his bottom half.

Now, he scavenged the other closet, and dig through the not-so-many shirts and sweaters Ianto owned. Cadell pulled out a red shirt, a pair of trousers and Ianto's only grey hoodie that possessed strange rips and frays in random spots. Afterwards, he searched through the mass of leather shoes for a pair of decent sneakers. He looked around the bedroom, pocketing Ianto's wallet and phone in the process. He managed to find them by the door and, without a moment to lose, he wore them, stepped out of the flat and smelled the fresh air like he had never before.

**~.::.~**

Owen, annoyed, kicked his empty soda can as he grumbled incomprehensibly, earning the amused and questioning looks of his teammates.

"Trying out for the rugby, Owen?" Gwen joked.

Owen glared at their boss descending from his office. "I'm just trying to understand why Ianto Jones gets a rest-leave for having a bleeding hand." Then, with much vehemence, he added: "Just because he's shagging the boss…"

"There are two things wrong with your argument, Dr. Harper," Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest, "one, Ianto isn't resting at home to heal his hand. He was a _mess_ yesterday, and visibly sick. Being the brilliant doctor you always claim to be, you should know that."

Owen only grunted, grabbing a bag of chips from the coffee table.

"And two," Jack continued, "I'm a very attractive and just—though I make a few allowances here and there—just boss. I don't make '_shagging_', as you call it, an excuse to treat someone else different from the others. Do you understand now?"

The man shoving potato chips in his mouth rolled his eyes and simply walked away. Tosh sighed in pity for Owen, having to be publicly defeated by the captain for the nth time. She tried helping him by inquiring, "Ianto _did_ seem suspiciously compliant not to report to work today, though."

"Well," Gwen reasoned, "he _does_ deserve it for all the hard work he's done cleaning after all our mess."

"Then why don't we offer him a warm welcome tomorrow?" Owen concluded, scattering the contents of the _Seabrook Potato Crisps_ all around the autopsy bay in spite.

**~.::.~**

Whilst Ianto dusted off the shelves, he had noticed something out of the ordinary. He couldn't find a single framed picture anywhere in the house. Not even a photograph of a family stood on a desk somewhere, and it peaked Ianto's curiosity. That was when a brilliant thought entered his mind.

If he could find at least data or a documentation that chronicled either Nathan's or most importantly Cadell's life, past and present, then perhaps he could understand better and be more aware.

Ianto relieved himself of his voluntary cleaning duties and proceeded, first, to Nathan's room. He had always been one to respect other's privacy and utterly despised sticking his nose in another's business. However, there are still instances where he couldn't help himself, especially when it came to Jack. _It always has to be Jack, isn't it?_ He could hear Owen remark in a snide manner. If Ianto wasn't too busy trying to locate something useful, he would stop and roll his eyes at the mental image of their doctor. It had absolutely nothing to do with how the immortal captain charmed him. _Charmed your _dick_ is more like it,_ mental Owen chided. Ianto smacked him away to continue his contemplation. It's just that he tells Jack everything, ever since the Lisa problem, and only rarely concealed the important details with white lies or complete turnarounds. So why shouldn't Jack do the same?

He quickly shook away the thoughts and concentrated on searching for a memorabilia or diary of some sort. He opened drawers, investigated shelves and looked under the bed. Nothing. Just as he was on the verge of giving up, he sat at the edge of the bed and pondered. Calmly and collectively thinking over something always brought a solution faster and easier. That was how Ianto became so observant and useful to the team. And so, Ianto asked himself: _if I was Nathan, were would I hide a keepsake?_

The only problem was, Ianto had no knowledge about Nathan. He may look like Jack, but he _isn't_ Jack at all. And Jack is one Ianto knew far too well. _But Nathan is Captain's reflection_, Ianto thought. _So wouldn't that mean…_

He looked up and stared at the cabinet. He had spotted Jack look fondly at old photographs before placing it inside a box bound in leather straps and setting it aside in his small compartment under his desk. Ianto hurriedly opened the door and smiled in triumph when he found what he wanted. He brought out a black box hidden amongst the shoeboxes and read what was written on the cover with a metallic pen. '_August 1994_'. Fifteen years ago? Ianto hesitantly lifted the lid and peered inside. It contained a few papers, flyers and posters, and a photo album underneath it all. He first pulled out the album and began flipping its pages.

The first few pages had old sepia-toned photographs of a couple, a wedding ceremony, pictures documenting the woman's pregnancy, and then a picture of a baby. Ianto read the labels carefully. The couple were _Bill and Janice_ whilst the baby was _Nathaniel_. _So that's what Jack must have looked like as an infant, _Ianto chuckled. He flipped more pages, smiling at the pictures of Nathan growing up and having his firsts. His first bicycle ride with and without training wheels, his first trip to the playground, his first loved stuffed animal. When I got to the first day of school, Nathan was smiling nervously in front of the gates of _St. Jude's School for Boys_, as what was said on the label. The photo next to it, however, was of Nathan and another boy, both beaming wide grins. Ianto snorted when he read '_Nathan and Matt_', in suspect that he must be John's counterpart. Although the fellow must be different from the no-good Captain John Hart who had wanted, and seemingly forced, to whisk Jack away from them just as he had come back from God knows where, and who had distastefully flirted with him using a likewise distasteful pet name.

He flipped the page once more and was surprised to see a picture of Nathan and his parents standing on the porch of their home. Nathan was wearing a sad smile , and Ianto figured they must be moving away. He flipped more pages, only scanning the number of pictures of the family exploring South Wales, and then Cardiff. Oh no, it was the _Other_ South Wales and the_ Other_ Cardiff.

And then Ianto stopped when he saw a picture of Nathan and him—_no_, he corrected, _it's Cadell_—standing by the sandbox seemingly having a good time. That marked the beginning of what Ianto was expecting. At the next page, it was a group shot containing Nathan, Cadell, and four others. Ianto read the label, and he managed to distinguish whose name belonged to whom, and who was whose other self. Cai was the boy smiling the brightest beside Cadell, and certainly and surprisingly, he was the Other Owen. The girl in pigtails and slit eyes beside Nathan was named Miyuki, and she was the Other Tosh. The child beside Miyuki was hiding her face behind her long straight hair and was named Eleri, the Other Gwen. That left the tall girl grinning almost as wide as Cai named Ariana to be casted as the Other Suzie.

_Of course, this was one of the differences between this world and home. _If they had met when they were recruited to Torchwood, these people had met in their childhood.

Ianto took his time studying each picture that came after that. He took note of each expression, each emotion that was taken a snapshot of, printed and was to be remembered. He smiled at the photos of Miyuki—singing onstage of what seems to be a school; others were in amateur contests. Eleri always evaded the camera, turning away in embarrassment just as Nathan, presumably, pressed the button. Cai was the exact opposite, however. He always grabbed and hogged the camera screen whenever opportunity hits. Ariana just always had a genuine smile, as if nothing bothered her at all.

His smile faltered when he came upon pictures where the group of five was wearing all-black outfits, their eyes red from sobbing too much. _Wait._ Ianto counted the heads and was sure there were only five people in the photograph. He looked closer and realized who was missing—Ariana. And unlike how it had been with Suzie, she had been murdered, and as Nathan had written beside the picture, she would always be remembered. In an instant, Ianto felt guilt at the pit of his stomach because, ever since Gwen had taken over Suzie's position, they had never spoken a word about her. It got him to think that if he had killed himself, too, when he lost Lisa, would he also be forgotten like her? Granted, he would have been, and even his coffee would disappear from their list of cravings and morning rituals.

He browsed through the pictures of Cai in a News studio and onstage as a standup comic, then at Miyuki performing as well onstage apparently earning a name for herself, then at Eleri teaching in what seems to be an outreach—the faces of the children unmistakably showing a slight fear towards the long stick Eleri gripped—then at a few pictures of Cadell doing different things.

Ianto grinned wider when it got to their graduation picture. Cadell, Nathan, Eleri, Cai and Miyuki were standing side by side, arms over each other's shoulders, wearing faces mixed with emotions of different degrees in positivity, or lack thereof.

There were no group shots afterwards. It only consisted of Cadell and Nathan, and they already lacked the happiness they had had in previous photos. Nathan was always studying, and Cadell still did random things and still spared a smile. But when it got to the picture of what could be a funeral, Cadell's smile was absent and so did the last ounce of life he had left. Puzzled, Ianto read the label and his breath hitched when he saw '_Mr. and Mrs. Ryans April 1994_'. He stared into his reflections eyes—lost, hurt, and angry.

Only two photos left, and they were of, first, Nathan at a corporate party with, as the label said, '_Matt as my boss. Weird reunion_', and the last was of Nathan and Cadell in another party, both looking frustrated but expressing it differently—Nathan still showed politeness to the one taking the picture, but glaring at Cadell who was looking away with much vehemence evident in his face.

Ianto set the album down and picked up the poster tucked inside the box. It had Miyuki's bright face, and it promoted her concert at the _Wales Millenium Centre_. _She had made it big_, Ianto thought, smiling sadly at her face. He places it beside the album before picking up the other papers left inside. The first paper he looked at was a flyer advertising Cai's program on the telly, '_Cai's Coax_'; the second was a brochure of _Ysgol Eglwys Newydd_—Whitchurch High School—that had a brief introduction by Head Teacher Ms. Eleri Emonds; and a newspaper clipping that spoke of '_Cardiff's compulsive crook: Cadell Ryans_' dated July 1994, exactly 3 months since the tragedy that befall the said man.

He placed all of them down on the floor and stared at the depressing story that lay in front of him. He didn't quite expect this, and he was at loss for words. Then, he noticed at the corner of his eye a portion of a paper peaking from between the last page of the album and the back cover. Ianto pulled it out and found it was a letter, saying the following:

_  
Memories that first seemed so sweet_

_With a loving family, a loyal friend_

_Left behind, first, to embrace a new beginning_

_To meet new friends who once swore they'll be forever_

_The promise that was broken when darkness loomed over_

_Happiness was gone for a moment_

_But then recovered as years passed  
_

_  
Children who dreamed dreams_

_A secret song to sing_

_A yearning for a name_

_Safety from the world's evil_

_Just pure happiness for himself and others_

_I still wasn't aware of mine  
_

_  
Growing older_

_Children no more as we received our diplomas_

_And left behind the last ounce of youth and innocence_

_Growing older_

_Growing apart_

_Children who dreamed dreams_

_Now fulfilling them_

_The secret song now played on the radio_

_The name now uttered by all_

_Safety accomplished amongst young learners_

_They had forgotten what they had left behind_

_The promise, again, was broken  
_

_  
Two men left standing_

_The happiness was fading away_

_I still wasn't aware of mine  
_

_  
One last disaster_

_Death once again looming over_

_And the happiness was gone completely_

_I felt sorry_

_I really did_

_I didn't listen hard enough  
_

_  
Now locked away in anger and melancholy_

_He plummets down a hole of wrong decisions_

_He cuts off the rope I send down_

_Time and time again  
_

_  
And I give up  
_

_  
Memories that first seemed so sweet_

_Ends in bitter tragedy_

_I cannot keep them_

_Everywhere I look I am reminded of them_

_I cannot keep them in tangible form_

_I will lock them away_

_Never to be seen again_

_Everywhere I look_

_How did it end up this way_

_I don't want to know  
_

_  
And I will forget_

_The promise that was never kept_

Ianto expected to find an explanation of the present events through records from the past.

He didn't, however, expect it to be this hard to digest.

**~.::.~**

Cadell didn't expect what he was going to find in this foreign place.

He did, however, expect the euphoric feeling overwhelming him as he spoke.

_This_ Cardiff was much different from _that_ Cardiff. _That_ Cardiff he left and had no intention whatsoever of coming back to. What were supposedly buildings weren't buildings but small shops and houses; what were supposedly shops and houses were tall buildings. And Cadell knew he would enjoy the change.

He ran on the sidewalk, glancing from right to left instead of focusing where he was running to. He eyed the displays of the shops he passed, wondering what he would take first. Then, like Newton's apple, his head was hit by a mental boot when he remembered that he had a hold of Ianto's wallet. Money he could do whatever he pleased. For the first time in a long time, he would be able to enter a store without carrying out a plan of thrift. He stopped when he saw a baker waving towards him. With reluctance, he entered the shop.

"_Bore da, _Ianto," the old and plump baker greeted. Cadell offered a half-smile and scanned the rows of pies and treats displayed before him.

"I hardly see you anywhere," the baker said. "You were always so busy with your work. It surprises me still that you're here right now."

"I'm on leave," Cadell told him simply. "What do you recommend?"

The baker grinned, showing off his yellow teeth that clearly observed their spacing. "_Pice bach. _Fresh out of the oven." He brought out a tray of welsh cakes and gestured Cadell to try one. He eagerly takes one from the tray and bites into it, savouring the caster sugar that coated it and the raisins and currants he could taste. He audibly showed how much he enjoyed the snack, earning a contented laugh from the baker.

When he paid for the lot he ate, he enthusiastically entered more shops to get a helping of the food he never had back home. He always had to be contented with anything that can easily be shoplifted, and most of the time they were only the small pastries and snacks that he could pocket. Never has he experienced such a delight in eating.

He tried treacle tarts with clotted cream and enjoyed a Knickerbocker glory; he ate jam roly-polies and jumbles; he ate and vomited pita bread with Tintern, Caerphilly, Pantysgawn and Y Fenni cheeses; he bought Ipso Calypsos, Pretzel Flipz and Wagon Wheels from the supermarket.

And when he looked out to Cardiff bay…

_Whilst his reflection sat on the floor looking through an old photo album;_

_Whilst the Torchwood team discussed Owen's complaint about who they thought was Ianto;_

_Whilst Nathan tried not to think about the cup of coffee he could have drunken if he hadn't been too irritated at who he thought was Cadell;_

…he smiled to himself because he was having the time of his life, unperturbed by whatever went on around him.

* * *

**Further Author's Notes: **Reviews are very much appreciated!


	5. Chapter Four: Strangers

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: I'd like to take a moment to greet you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope you could all notice how Cadell and Ianto do things oppositely, but are doing the same course of action. Did that make sense? Probably not. I am now officially unfit to make sense in _Author's Notes_.

* * *

_With every sun that sets I am feeling more_

_Like a stranger on a foreign shore_

_With an eroding beach disappearing from underneath_

—_My_ _Mirror Speaks_ by Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Ianto stirred his coffee in a delicate and contemplative manner. It disturbed him greatly, what he had found out that morning. Nothing raced his mind but every emotion displayed in that album. He is, admittedly, a sucker for tear worthy stories, but that didn't change his resistance to mention how his eyes had been red throughout the entirety of _I Am Sam_.

He put down the cup and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. What worried him the most, now, is how he is going to face Nathan without imagining the pain and sadness he must have felt as he wrote down the letter to no one, sealed all remnants of the past and hid them away to be camouflaged amongst the branded leather shoes. He was too afraid. Afraid of breaking down if he ever saw him in that pathetic state of being, because Ianto would indisputably see _Jack_, not Nathan, and he didn't want that to happen. He didn't want to see the man who had kept him strong, who had kept him living his life because it was worth it, curse the world for doing this to him. That would be so disgustingly hypocritical, and the last thing Ianto wanted was to see his beliefs crumbling down as if it was a waste of time just having those particular beliefs.

But Jack _must_ be strong. He's seen too much for his own good. And yet, he keeps on living. Not like he has a choice, anyway. Still. He _must_ be strong.

Ianto repeated those lines over like a mantra, but found it rather too long.

Jack _isn't_ Nathan, and Nathan _isn't_ Jack. Jack _isn't_ Nathan, and Nathan _isn't_ Jack. Jack _isn't_ Nathan, and Nathan _isn't_ Jack. Jack _isn't_ Nathan, and Nathan _is_—

Ianto's heart almost gave when the door swung open and closed with much force. He spun around and released the air he held unconsciously. "Good evening." Nathan dropped his suitcase and eyed him warily. He parted his lips in preparation to speak, but paused, sniffing the air. "What's that?" Ianto picked up his mug and walked towards him. "It's either the coffee you smell or the Lemon air freshener I found inside the sink cabinet." Nathan shot him a disbelieving look. "You _hate_ lemon."

Ianto cursed inwardly as he only remembered just then the picture he saw in the album of a young Cadell rubbing his eyes furiously whilst Miyuki, wearing an apologetic look, was trying to edge away from the scene with lemons at hand. Ianto waved his hand dismissively. "I got over it. I mean," he drew a sharp intake of air, "I can still see, right?"

Nathan crossed his arms over his chest, just as Jack would always do when he suspected something, or was visibly annoyed. "You constantly quetch at Ki for having you wear reading glasses, Cadell, and now you're telling me you've'_gotten over it_'?"

_Well, there's a positive thought_, Ianto gulped nervously, _hadn't I been too preoccupied with the album, I would have made the mistake of reading one of Nathan's books._ "I've realized now that it was just an accident. She _was_ sorry."

The other man stared him down, unnerved by his lie, and answered: "That warehouse you were found unconscious in...it was a storage for poisonous fumes, wasn't it? The toxins made you delirious which caused the change of personality. That's it isn't it?" He approached the phone. "I should call a doctor—"

"You can't reason with inferences." Ianto said, cutting him off.

"Well, you aren't being very subtle with whatever act you're pulling," Nathan remarked, heading up the stairs towards his room. "Did you come in here?"

"Only to fix your clock." Ianto let the lie hang in the air as he sipped his coffee. He, then, let Nathan's words sink in. He's right; Ianto hadn't been blending in as he should. Should he blend in even? He had to, because he was stuck in a world where everything has been turned upside down. Aliens roamed the streets as if it were normal, the personalities of the people he knew were exactly the opposite, and Nathan wasn't the type of person Ianto could turn to. Not to mention that Ianto, himself, was the least trustworthy fellow that lived in this alternate Cardiff. All his actions were doubted and scrutinized, all his words regarded as lies (even those that truly weren't), and all that he was perceived as a threat to society.

So what should he do? Ride with the wind, or prove them wrong?

"You fixed my sheets," he yelled as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Oh, and that," Ianto corrected. "But just that." He sighed and reluctantly took a try. "Your room was so painfully boring that I never want to step foot in it again."

"Uh huh," came the reply.

So much for riding with the wind. When Ianto saw Nathan descend down the stairs with fresh clothes on, he asked, "So, what do you fancy to eat for dinner?"

"I don't eat here, remember?" He mumbled. "Or did you magically forget that too?"

Proving them wrong, or, as Ianto had observed, '_being himself_', might be a huge difficulty as well. Defeated, he retreated to the kitchen and dumped his coffee down the sink.

**~.::.~**

Cadell was amazingly and happily tired. When he reached Ianto's—no, he should regard it now as _his_ flat—he plopped down _his_ bed and inhaled the scent of _his_ warm sheets.

It gave him a funny feeling, declaring his ownership as if he really _was_ part of this world. And why shouldn't he? He already was. He was living the life, albeit one day has just passed, of his reflection. He, at that very moment, _was_ Ianto, and he felt great about it.

He reached under his pillow to bury his face against it, but touched something hard that lied beneath it. He pulled it out and stared at the object inquisitively. It was a journal bound tightly with a snap button. He flipped it open and read the first page.

_Property of Ianto Jones_, then a scrawl underneath it which Cadell had to squint hard to read, _Wry cake, Zach t –Lush._

Cadell blinked. He groaned and searched through the drawers for glasses, if Ianto _had_ a pair. He opened a box and brought out a magnifying glass, deciding that it would do. _Fucking Asian bitch for blinding me,_ he grumbled to himself. He sat down by the desk and flicked on the lamp. It had said '_Very cute, Ianto :) –Jack_'. He flipped the pages and paused randomly.

"_I lost Lisa today, and I've never felt so dead inside. All those years toiling away to save her. Were they really a waste? She used to be the candle that flickered, albeit weakly, in the cold dark night. Now, a force had blown her out, leaving me shivering. Freezing. Alone and scared. A force I cannot control._

"_I wanted to kill him. I really wanted to. But how could I? Someone so strong and so great as he is…how can you defeat him? One can only deceive him that much. A fool I was to be ignorant of the possibility that Lisa, my dear Lisa, would be…that way. I cannot even bring myself to write the horror I have seen her do and have seen come upon her._

"_She's dead. Now, I don't know what to do. Should I die too? I need her. She's all I have._"

Cadell tried hard not to think of his parents. He didn't want to remember the same pain he had to endure when he lost them. He didn't want to remember what caused him to spiral down a path of self-destruction, or whatever Nathan had screamed at him once. He hurriedly flipped to another page.

"_I almost died. I was almost beheaded by a cleaver that reeked of too much blood from other people. I was almost made into dinner. I almost died, and I couldn't believe that I was scared. Scared to die, when in fact I had attempted to over and over again that week when I lost Lisa. I almost died, and I almost pissed my trousers. Almost. But then he came and saved me. Maybe it wasn't _me_, but he came and shot the cannibal who held me in place. Because of him, I'm still here, intact. Come to think of it, even back then he saved me from dying. At least I think he did. I know he did. When I was thrown off, everything went black, but I felt this sort of energy flow inside me and I woke up gasping for air and Jack was there holding me. I should be grateful to him. So amidst all my trauma from today's mission, I'm thinking of ways to give him my thanks. Amazing._"

That was when he felt a pang of jealousy. Nathan had never done anything for him, except pay bail and offer him a roof. The man had never truly cared for him, and the same went with everyone whom he once called his '_friends_'. Was he that easily overlooked and forgotten? What had he done to deserve that kind of treatment? He had always been there for them when they broke down and cried, but where were _they_ when he needed them the most?

Cadell angrily flipped to a random page again and read it intently.

"_He said he came back for me. One month with him gone, and I was convinced he had forgotten us. I had wanted to beat myself shitless for thinking we shared something special, and for becoming so attached to him. I had told myself that I should have believed Owen when he said I was just a part-time shag and nothing more to Jack. But he said he came back for me. Or was it because I had asked first? No, he said he came back for me, then asked me out a little while after. I was frightened because it seemed as though he were getting serious, and I didn't want it to in case he decides to leave again. But now, after everything, after Lisa, after the deception, after the hurt and sorrow, it was thrilling to finally have a flame burning in the dark, now stronger and brighter. How oddly happy I am now to have someone to_"

_Love_, Cadell finished the hanging sentence. He huffed when he thought of that word. Again leaving him berating on and on about the sort of life he had to put up with back at the other side of the mirror. He slammed the journal and the magnifying glass back down and stood, walking towards the window to reflect. He was certain, now, that Ianto had a perfect life—the life _he_ wanted so badly. There was no chance for him to return, no, not after realizing how beautiful this place was. It was decided.

He would stay here, and in order to do that, he would have to _be_ Ianto. And he was willing to embrace a new identity, if it meant having everything he had here to be rightfully _his_.

He strode towards a mirror and seethed, "Cadell Ryans is dead. _I'm_ Ianto Jones now."

**~.::.~**

Ianto stayed in bed, staring into space, for a good 15 minutes since he awoke. He had still hoped against all hope he would wake up to the worried and relieved faces of his friends, reassuring him that whatever that had happened to him was something called a _this_ and they managed to stop it by doing _that_.

He was so dim to think so.

He had begun to miss them. He missed waking up early, immediately readying himself, cooking himself breakfast if he had time or buying a Clark Pie if he hadn't, pocketing a bar of dark chocolate for Myfanwy, arriving to work and swiftly brewing coffee for his teammates, sometimes earning a morning kiss from Jack and _sometimes_ earning a little more than a kiss, feeding Myfanwy with the dark chocolate because he was the only one able to do so, greeting everyone then handing them their respective coffee, feeling good about their compliments…

An endless list, it was.

He wondered if Jack had ever thought about these things when he was gone for a month, or for how long it was for him wherever he went. Had he constantly thought about them like what Ianto was doing at that precise moment? Had he thought about what could possibly be going on and whatever alien they had to fight on their own? Had he wondered if they were missing him at all?

_It's impossible for them to miss me_, Ianto thought. _Because they have that fraud they can't see beyond. _What Torchwood—what _Cardiff_—had was a genuine photocopy of him, except he was a downright criminal who had been into a state of ultimate depression._ And if, unlike me, he could fool them by taking my persona, then I really am done for._

He rolled to his side and thought of nothing for the next few seconds before sitting upright with a determined look. He was on his own, now, with no one beside him to aid him through this. He needed to stay strong and plan thoroughly what to do. He had done so before, when he brilliantly schemed to have Lisa sneaked in the Torchwood headquarters, and he could do it again. And just like how Jack had been the key to his success, Nathan is the surefire way for him to get back. All he needed to do was to earn his trust and respect.

However, there were no decoy dinosaurs to capture anymore, and he had gotten lucky with the wearing of a suit (which, because of that, he had to wear everyday so the captain wouldn't think he only wore it for that night only, but he had gotten accustomed to it so it didn't matter anymore). He couldn't exactly move the man with his godly coffee either.

Ianto had to do it the old fashioned way. He had to wait for Nathan's trust to become fully his, enough to make him believe that whatever Ianto said, no matter how bizarre it would sound, was true. It was the only option, and he had to start now.

**~.::.~**

"I don't think I could come in today," Cadell muttered under his breath over the receiver. "My head still hurts."

There was a slight pause coming from the other end before Jack answered, "I already told you that if it just so happens to be your '_Spring Cleaning Day_', Ianto, you could tell me." He chuckled. "I'd gladly let you stay home for your rituals."

Cadell looked at his surroundings and rolled his eyes at the mess. "Memory refreshed," he replied. "Tomorrow. I promise—" he paused, considering to use that one word, "—sir. And am I allowed to ask a favor?" Cadell silently clicked his tongue in distaste. Being polite was one of the things he wasn't fond of and it clearly bothered him how good he was at it.

"Always." At this point, Cadell could hear distant shouting coming from the Owen fellow, followed by a muffled chastisement by Jack. When he was sure Jack was listening attentively, he continued, "Could you pick me up tomorrow morning?"

Then, he could almost see the smirk forming on his boss' face as if visualizing what the request was for. What he didn't know was that Cadell had realized the night before that he would be having a hard time finding where he worked in exactly, and he had planned ahead of time what to tell Jack first thing in the morning. "I'll be looking forward to it," Jack answered before hanging up. Cadell put the phone down and quickly dialed the number of the local Maid Agency, immediately hiring one to clean up his mess. After a prompt chat, he picked Ianto's journal up and brushed his thumb against the edges. He's not an avid fan of heavy reading, more so is he not one to digest so much information, but if it concerns adding knowledge about what sort of life he _should_ lead as his reflection to his brain, then he'll have to endure it.

Of course, he'd have to get himself glasses—no, Ianto worked in the archives, so he needed contacts not glasses—because using a magnifying glass was as painful as chewing those horrible cheeses he tried yesterday. He went and took a quick shower, and then opened the wardrobe containing all of Ianto's suits because, quite frankly, a man in a suit was always respected. He randomly pulled out an outfit and put them on before fussing over with his tie. When he found it virtually impossible to successfully tie it, he stuffed it down his pocket and looked for a pair of shoes. He grabbed the topmost box and lifted the lid, shocked to find two handguns inside.

Curious, he took them out and found a small bottle lying underneath them. He pocketed the bottle to be investigated later, and then stared blankly at the two guns laid before him. He brought out another box that was adjacent to the former and peered inside, finding a holster. He wore the leather sheath and placed one handgun there. It could prove to be useful later.

Afterwards, he shoved his—yes, his—wallet and house and car keys down his pocket (Amazing, he thought, that it could hold so much items, these pockets.) and got the journal before heading to the living room to wait for the hired helper. He flopped down the couch about to turn the telly on when framed pictures by the windowsill caught his eye. Nearing towards it, he cringed to find, beside the pictures of Ianto and his family and of Ianto with another girl, a picture of his and his ex-friends' other selves. They were huddled together, smiling in different ways at the camera. He stared thoughtfully at it, studying every face, remembering all the memories he had with each one of them—_them_ them, not these _other_ them. What was odd was that he was reminiscing in a backwards fashion, recalling the funeral of his parents, then watching Cai, Eleri and Ki leave to make something out of their lives but in turn forgetting him, and then the graduation. Then, he remembered the gimmicks, and the parties at the pubs, and complaining about the Chemistry homework they had involving the naming of compounds, and having to dissect a Griffon-Frog hybrid. Then, days before their Middle School graduation when they started telling each other their dreams and goals and how, whatever it takes, they will achieve them. Then, running freely in the playground throwing sand at each other and burying each other's toys because it was fun. Then, meeting Nathan at an Ice Cream Parlor and instantly becoming the best of friends because they just automatically clicked.

He lifted the portrait and smiled at it, and in a blink of an eye, hurled it out the window.

**~.::.~**

"Good morning, I was wondering if I could apply for a job here."

"Over my dead body, Ryans."

Ianto closed his eyes on impulse as the door slammed onto his face. That had been exactly the sixth shop he had gone to asking for work and rejected right as he knocked on the door. He sighed and walked towards another shop, skeptic at the '_seventh time's the charm_' belief. He raised his knuckle towards the door when a humungous cat swung it open, glaring at him before it said, "I will die 9 times before I let you work in here. And don't even _think _about it." It raised its paw to flaunt its sharp claws and, without giving Ianto time to gulp, closed the door.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his head in annoyance. He had expected to not get a job in the first few tries, but to realize that about _everyone_ in town knew him and absolutely despised him—that itself being an understatement—almost had him at wits end. He couldn't even get the simplest of jobs like waiting tables or washing dishes. And now, this man of class was about to consider the lowliest job he would ever pine for—janitor.

He headed to the nearest mall he could find—which took him some time, mind—but couldn't get past the front door. A slimy tentacle of the guard of some species Ianto has never seen in his life in Torchwood wrapped itself around his arm making Ianto shudder and paralysed by the touch. The alien drawled out in prolonged vowels, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm here to apply for a job," Ianto said simply.

It snorted and Ianto prayed he wasn't the type who sprayed vile substances from its nostrils. "You're not allowed here."

"Says who?"

It tightens its grip around his arm. "I do."

"Look," Ianto said growing impatient, "you can escort me inside, I don't care, and you can see for yourself that my intentions are pure."

When the alien eyed him suspiciously and skeptically, Ianto politely said, "Please."

A few moments of silence, and he thought this creature was really unnerved by his pleading. But he was caught off guard when the alien threw him aside—no, _in_side as he found out when he recovered from the shove. He looked at his arm and was surprised to not find slime or any other sticky residue from the tentacle. He glanced towards the guard. "To the Manager's Office," the alien told him.

**~.::.~**

When he heard a knock on the door, Cadell rolled his eyes and audibly said, "Finally," before answering it. There, he saw a young girl in a black and white coloured uniform. "Good morning, sir," she greeted timidly.

"Well, don't just stand there," he stepped aside to let her in, "go and do your cleaning magic. I'm heading out, and I better not find half of my flat missing." In a haste manner, he walked out and stared at the car parked in front of him wondering whether or not to travel by wheels. In all honesty, he hadn't taken his driving lessons—he was the only one, in fact, amongst those he knew who hadn't at all—and he only involved himself in an intense car chase _once_, and that was when he hid in an abandoned building, was pursued by one fat and one skinny policemen, then hijacked their police car to get away.

He shrugged and went onwards, looking around and relying only on instinct to find an optical shop. After aimlessly wandering, he grew impatient and halted a woman walking opposite his way and asked for directions. When he reached the shop, he entered and walked over to the bespectacled woman behind the counter.

"Good morning, sir," she welcomed politely. "Looking for anything specific?"

"Contact lenses," replied Cadell, bringing out his wallet. "The colorless ones."

When she fetched his order, Cadell opened the wallet and found an intriguing card sticking out from its pocket. He brought the ID up close and tried to read it, but was only able to make out some facial features of the picture, and an odd looking capital _T_ at the side. He looked at the display on the counter and snatched the glasses being worn by it, putting it on temporarily.

"Torchwood?" He whispered audibly after reading the header of the card. Then, he heard the girl come back with a lens cover. He returns the glasses to the display and pays for his purchase before putting them on. He stared at himself in the mirror. Absolutely unnoticeable through his blue eyes.

"Thanks," he said to the woman, "and is there a café nearby?"

She nodded. "Just walk a few blocks right. You can't miss it."

He mumbled a thank you before going his way, wondering what Torchwood was. It certainly didn't sound like a line of work he was aware of, but the previous incidents and items and Ianto's jottings hinted him that it was definitely one-of-a-kind if not terribly dangerous. He patted the gun hidden behind his coat and felt a sudden wave of emotion. If his new work was indeed action-packed that it would put _James Bond_ flicks to shame, he was ready and willing to start bloodshed.

He stopped in front of a _Starbucks_ establishment and walked inside, approaching the counter to order himself Green Tea. When the barista asked for his name, he could say '_Ianto_', but he wanted to bask in that rare moment of telling someone his real name, his infamous name, without said person freaking out and pissing his trousers.

"Cadell," he said, grinning like an idiot.

"Ca…dell," the barista repeated as he wrote on the cup. "Just take a seat, sir."

He walked to a table at the corner and patiently waited for his tea. When he heard his name being called, he looked around and was amazed by how no one stared and whispered amongst themselves. He got up, claimed his drink, sat back down, took a sip and began to read Ianto's journal from the beginning.

"_This is my first entry within Torchwood, and this is how I was recruited…_"

**~.::.~**

"A job, eh?" the Manager Felix said as he drummed his fingers in the table. "Do you honestly believe I'm stupid enough to not see through your little lies, Mr. Ryans?"

"I'm not lying," Ianto replied in exasperation.

"Something happens in this mall and who gets all the blame?" Felix leaned forward. "You, but I'm going to get dragged into this. Ever thought of that?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, biting back his tongue to avoid giving a snide remark that would cut him from all his chances of getting a job. "Sir," he said sharply, "I just want to make something out of my life now."

Felix chuckled. "You have no life."

"I'll rebuild it," he answered, "I'm going through therapy, and getting myself a job is the right way to go. Please."

Felix pretended to think. "Hm. Nope, sorry, can't risk the safety and welfare of my well-maintained mall and the gorgeous shoppers with sweet cash by listening to your made-up stories."

Ianto figured it was a weak lie, anyway. "Give me a chance, sir, and I'll prove to you that all I'm after is a job and not to wreak havoc in your wonderful mall."

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" The manager sighed dreamily, earning Ianto's irritated groan. That was when Felix sat upright and started to speak professionally. "All right. I'll give you the entire day to beg each store owner for work, and if you find at least _one_ taker, I'll let you have your way. Let's just see if you _could_ find any takers given your prominence."

Ianto grinned, relieved. "Thank you, sir." He immediately shot up and began his search. He around the mall trying not to notice the wary looks _everyone_ was giving him and how his path was always cleared to give him way. After a few attempts, he reverts back to his original plan. He descends to the Food Court and stared at the caretakers mopping the floor, wiping the tables, and pushing their cleaning carts. He gained enough courage to approach one and brought his hands up in defense when the man reacted like he was about to be mulled to a pulp.

"Relax," Ianto said soothingly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"He's asking for a job." Ianto spun around in surprise and found the alien guard from before standing behind him. He released the breath he caught and placed his hands on his hips. "Have you been following me around?" The alien merely growled.

Ianto rolled his eyes and looked back at the man he had approached. He pulled on a smile. "So, is there anyone I could talk to regarding this?" _Preferably _not_ an alien_, Ianto begged to the heavens above. Having to live amongst them was taking him time to get used to and it increased his paranoia every time he would make contact, jumping away from them in defense to avoid getting himself hurt or killed or whatever the aliens would want to do with him because, hell, how many times has he been used as a shield by their enemies? But he always had to remind himself that there was nothing these aliens would do to cause a ruckus and Ianto had yet to know why.

"Well," the man said timidly, "you can talk to '_The Chief_'."

" '_The Chief_'?" Ianto repeated. "Is he the mall manager?"

The man shakes his head. "He's the boss of this floor, he is." He points at a door at the far end of the court. "We report to him back there."

Ianto took one sidelong glance to the alien behind him before telling the caretaker, "Take me to him."

**~.::.~**

Cadell put down the journal and leaned his head back. He may not understand most of the writings, but he mainly got the gist of the life Ianto had. He quickly replayed the important facts in his head.

Ianto never mentioned his parents, but said he has a sister, Rhiannon from the recorded message, who was married and had two kids. He used to work in Torchwood London, met his now deceased ex-girlfriend Lisa who turned into some Cyberwoman which lead him to trick his way to Torchwood Three headed by a Captain Jack Harkness to save her. They have a dino-pet-guard thing named Myfanwy who, apparently, likes dark chocolate. His teammates are Owen Harper, medic; Toshiko Sato, technical expert; and Suzie Costello, second-in-command who killed herself and is now replaced by a used-to-be police cop name Gwen Cooper who has a boyfriend named Rhys Williams. There's also this fellow named Captain John Hart who was one of the many, many ex-boyfriends of Jack and who keeps coming back to threaten Jack to come back to God knows where. All boring, boring yet vital facts that Cadell needed to keep in mind.

It was also revealed that Ianto had reached a state of depression, but it changed when he started having an affair with Jack which, to Cadell's disgust, he has to deal with even though he finds nothing attractive about the man, or any other men at that. Ianto is also the resident Teaboy besides him being the Archivist which means Cadell _has_ to learn how to brew amazing coffee and be organized like some boring secretary.

What interests him, amidst all the uninteresting information, is the fact that Torchwood is a secret organization hidden underground to prevent aliens that pass through the Rift from wreaking havoc and threatening the human society. He isn't too keen, though, about having to capture and kill aliens but he does enjoy the thought of having to be part of all the action. _The aliens might be fugitives, anyway, so it serves them right to be killed by these people_, Cadell thought. He hasn't the slightest idea. Aliens from where he's from were all decent creatures.

He had also found out what the small bottle he had with him was from the accounts. It was full of _RetCon_, a powerful drug that would make you forget everything you have done that entire day. Quite a useful pill, it was.

He looks at the barista and gathers his things before approaching him. "Hi," he said. "I need to know who makes the best coffee in your staff."

He looks up and puts on a polite smile. "And for what may that knowledge be for, sir?"

"Just simply curiosity," replied Cadell, shrugging.

"Then it's obviously the manager, sir. Always tests our brews in the morning before we open. Would you like me to call for him?"

Men in suits are always so respected. "Yes, please."

A minute later, the manager emerged from his office and shook Cadell's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir," Cadell said. "I was told you're the best."

"Well," the man said with pride gleaming in his eyes. "All it takes is years of practice."

"Today's your lucky day, then, sir," Cadell smiled. "I have a proposition for you. Could we talk in your office?"

The manager nodded his head and lead Cadell into a small room with a desk and chairs. Cadell takes his place opposite the manager at the other side of the table.

"And who, sir, might you be?" The manager asked.

"Just an interested businessman," Cadell lied. "This proposition is definitely one you cannot refuse."

"Let's hear it, then."

Cadell deepened his smile and, with a swift motion, covered the manager's hand roughly and brought his gun to his head. The manager whimpered and gripped on Cadell's arms but Cadell had done this way too many times to lose the struggling battle.

"I'm not exactly a businessman you should reckon with, no, not with this gun threatening to push a bullet through your skull." Cadell grumbled. "All I am asking you to do are two things. Are you listening? Two very simple things that even a rookie barista could give me, but I chose you. Sucks for you, ain't it?"

The manager winced. "First," Cadell said, "teach me how to make coffee. _Excellent_ coffee. Like God Himself made it. You can do that, right? There's a coffee maker over there by the door. It's good to have a little privacy between us. You do just that without making a fuss and I'll let you go scot free afterwards. Understood?" Cadell grinned when the manager nodded his head eagerly, eyes as wide as ping pong balls and as red as a scraped knee.

"Good man," He laughed. "Oh, and whilst you're at it, teach me how to wear a tie."

**~.::.~**

Ianto's first thoughts of _The Chief_ were that he was a grimy middle-aged man who fed on crisps and burgers without bothering to clean his beard of the evidence. He sat on a stool whilst he watched a noontime show on a small television, not even bothering to look up when the door swung open.

The man who Ianto was accompanied with gripped his shoulder. "Hey, Chief." The Chief turned his head lazily to the pair and raised his eyebrows.

"The bloke's asking for a job." The man patted Ianto's back. Ianto pulled on a polite smile as The Chief eyed him top to bottom. "You look familiar."

Ianto gathered up the courage to answer, "Cadell Ryans, sir."

"Oh," The Chief scratched his cheek. "Him." And he returned to watching the telly. Ianto blinked and glanced at the man beside him with utter confusion, but he just shrugged his shoulders obviously scared of interrupting The Chief once more. Ianto grumbled and wrenched away from the tight grasp on his shoulder, and with a swift motion stepped in front of The Chief blocking his view on the television. The man stepped back in apprehension whilst The Chief stared at Ianto with a slightly started look.

"I'm trying to apply for a job, sir, and I appreciate it if you notice me as I do so," Ianto barked at him.

The Chief squinted his eyes. "I was trying to watch a programme—"

"To hell with your bloody programme!" Ianto yelled as he smacked his balled fists on the wooden table in front of them both.

"Sir…" The man tried to calm Ianto down, but Ianto held his glare fixed on the pudgy sloth before him. The Chief crossed his arms and broke into an amused grin. "Desperate fellow, you are."

Ianto swallowed and retrieved his lost poise. The Chief motioned for the man to remove the telly off the wooden chair it sat on for Ianto to use. Ianto said his thanks and took his place.

"So," The Chief started. "Why look here, then?"

Ianto began telling his story. "I asked for jobs about 7 times outside but none were too comfortable with the thought of having a well-known criminal scaring the life out of their customers. They also figured it was a ploy for me to steal their stocks."

"Categories."

"Yes, cat—what?" Ianto coughed. "Excuse me, come again?"

"Categories?"

Ianto sighed. It seemed to be that the longer he stayed in this alternate world, the more he thought and missed every single thing back home. He choked on the little things that would remind him of the very people he cared for all left behind with another him and all ignorant of that Other One being an _Other_ One. "Yes," he agreed. "Categories," he paused, looked thoughtfully at The Chief then shook his head. "No, not like categories. They're only trying to protect themselves from danger. It's something good, I suppose, if not right."

"It's a bugger for you, though?" The Chief said, nodding his head. Ianto sighed once again before continuing, "So I thought that maybe, if I couldn't get myself into jobs I know I'll be great at then perhaps I should start from the most basic one and work my way up."

"Cleaning up after people is what you call the most basic job?" The Chief chuckled. Ianto joined in, too, because he had just realized that cleaning up was indeed something he mastered as well.

"I know I can do this," Ianto told him with confidence. "Caretaking."

The Chief stared at Ianto, and with much sternness in his voice, he said, "Son, I can take you, no worries about that. The more the merrier after all, eh? I don't care if you're a bloody murderer, so long as it ain't my own insides stained on your shirt. And I ain't taking the blame, anyway; it's the manager who'll be strangled with the media, it is. The only thing I want to know, son, is—" He leaned closer to Ianto. "—why _exactly_ do you want this job?"

Ianto breathed in, then out. He thought of all the lies he could possibly spin for this man. He thought, also, of the truth. But he had stuck to one real, for it was neither true nor false, reason to say, and with eyes gleaming and a voice so firm and confident, he breathed out:

"Redemption."

**~.::.~**

Cadell stepped out of the Management Office, adjusting his fixed tie with a beaming grin. He looked back through the slowly closing door at the manager slumped on his desk and dozing off. He held his head up high, said his thanks to the staff and walked out the establishment, feeling a euphoric emotion rushing through his body.

He had the looks. He had the knowledge. He had the skills. He had absolutely everything he needed.

There was only one thing left for him to do. He needed to pass the test tomorrow in deceiving Torchwood into believing that nothing has changed, and Cadell was their Ianto. If he could do just that, then it was done.

He'd have been already part of this world.

He mumbled under his breath, "Ianto Jones."

**~.::.~**

The Chief watched Ianto from a distance, nibbling on a crisp to try and block the noise of whispers and gossips and remarks directed at the young man. Ianto had a harder time, though, in ignoring the worldly clamor as he mopped the floors clean for mops, sadly, gave no sound. Only gliding through the tiles, unlike plates that would clink and clank with each others as you stack them up and deposit them on the cleaning carts.

He stopped and sighed, closing his eyes as an awkward feeling rushed through his body, the feeling he hadn't recognized for a long time since the exposure of Lisa. And he couldn't believe that he would be feeling it, even as all this isn't his fault.

He was, undoubtedly, ashamed.

His eyes flickered to where The Chief was and he let himself embrace his new identity once and for all.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "Cadell Ryans."

* * *

**Further Author's Notes: **Reviews are very much appreciated! Of course, I do say that in everything. So make me feel appreciated. No, just kidding. What you should do, instead, is to piss your pants in excitement over what could come next in the upcoming chapter. Go!


	6. Chapter Five: Deception

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: I had forgotten to mention that this story takes place a bit after _Adam_ and way before _Reset_, meaning Gwen isn't married, yet, to Rhys; Owen is far from dead; Captain John Hart has already been introduced to the team; Jack and Ianto's relationship is getting pretty serious; and Tosh is still hiding her affections for the medic.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Dragging his feet in weariness, Ianto opened the door of his home—yes, he finally had come round to claim it as his—and yawned terribly loud. Even cleansing the Hub from all the alien goop, blood, spilt drinks and broken artifacts had never been as tiring as running around the Food Court to fix the tables, collect the trays and mop the floors. He could almost blame The Chief's unbecoming behavior and appearance that must have caused the staff shortage, with him probably discouraging them and all. Ianto had been certainly unenthusiastic himself.

He looked down at his new uniform: a blue button-down shirt with a strip of yellow lining the collar and sleeves. It could have been worse, but Ianto much preferred it if he was back into the safety of his suit. He felt more confident, more respected and definitely more poised wearing 4 layers of clothing. In Cadell's clothes, he just felt like a sordid loafer. _Of course, _Ianto groaned inwardly, _you wear the clothes, you become the man._

He walked to the Living Room and saw Nathan reading that morning's paper, scanning the articles and ignoring his presence. Ianto, for the sake of being polite, offered to brew Nathan coffee, but the ignorant man simply muttered a firm "No."

Ianto shrugged his shoulders and sauntered over the couch, dropping himself beside Nathan, who immediately knew what was coming next. Mind, he still was unsuspecting of who he still thought was Cadell's odd behavior, and he was expecting what always happened every night: Cadell would come back from god knows where, flop down the couch beside Nathan, ignore each other, turn the telly on, and then turn the volume up so loud to irritate the older who would, as always, roll his eyes, crumple the newspaper, yell at Cadell, then finally retreat to his room. But tonight didn't seem to follow that routine, for all Nathan heard was silence from the other man and, after a few more seconds of waiting, a soft snore.

Nathan gave a sideways glance to Ianto who was slumped against the armrest sleeping. He eyed the strange blue shirt Ianto wore which resembled that of a caretaker's and wondered where he had gotten it and what sort of trouble he had used it for. But he told himself that he could care less and went back to reading his paper.

**~.::.~**

When Jack came to Ianto's flat, he was surprised to find him still asleep on his bed. He looked thoughtfully at the sleeping figure snoring lightly and hugging the pillow so protectively, and Jack found it silly for him to be quite jealous of an inanimate object. He leaned towards Cadell and tapped that delicate spot just below his ear, tickling him awake, but Cadell didn't stir. Jack pulled on his earlobe, but his snores only grew louder. At that point, the captain had wanted to test the wakeup call of cold water on the Welshman, however he didn't want to die so early in the morning. It would have been an amusing sight to witness, though.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the floor and picked it up, adjusting it so that it would go off precisely about a few seconds from now before placing it near Cadell's exposed ear and—

_RRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNGGGG!!!_

Cadell's eyes shot open and he screamed, throwing the pillow he was hugging to whoever had broken into his flat, then reached for his gun tucked underneath the blanket to point it at—

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jack yelled, raising his hands up after he had recovered from the smack at his face with the pillow. "Settle down, Ianto."

Cadell blinked the drowsiness away and, when he saw that it was just Jack, lowered the gun down. "Oh," he said. "It's you." And in a flash, he remembered what the captain's purpose was of being there, and that was to accompany him to their headquarters so he would be able to memorize the way like how he knew every street, avenue and alleyway back to where he used to live. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom. "Do you want coffee?"

Jack shook his head. "Save it for at the hub. Everyone's probably waiting for us by now." He strolled out the bedroom and marveled the usual cleanliness of the flat. "No wonder you're tired," he said. "You must have worked your ass off fixing this place. I could practically see my face on your floor. Gorgeous."

Cadell rolled his eyes as he brushed his teeth. The helper he had hired did a pretty great job, then. When he came home the day before, he had paid her handsomely without even taking a gander at her cleaning job and fired her immediately. It was a good thing, too, that he had followed her out the door for if he hadn't, he wouldn't have found the picture frame he threw out the window that morning lying on the concrete pavement. He had picked it up, tore it to pieces and threw everything including the broken frame in the dustbin. He said to Jack, "Go and snog it, for all I care."

"Already did."

Cadell spat the foam from his mouth and cringed. "You're a sick, sick man." And he drowned out his boss' laughter with running water.

After a while of waiting in the living room and watching a shopping channel, Jack saw Cadell emerge from his room dressed and ready to go. "Sorry." he said.

"Save it for the rest of the team," Jack replied, switching the television off and rising from the couch, then with a smirk, he added, "Especially Owen."

Cadell stuffed his hands down his trouser's pockets. "Great."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he said. "I find them rather spacey too."

Cadell looked down at his hidden hands and shrugged. Then, he was further questioned. "How's your hand?" He pulled out his left hand and showed the multiply healing red lines. "It's fine," he replied, and stopped himself from continuing, "I can still manage to write with it," for Ianto was right-handed.

"Good. I'll have Owen look at that though, in case you have a disease from whatever attacked you back at the castle." Cadell nodded his head in understanding.

"So, shall we?" Jack stretched his arm as would a gentleman to a lady to be courteous, but Cadell merely eyed the arm in horrification. He pointed at it and muttered, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Damn. Still not budging, huh?"

And with that, they left the flat.

"I hope you don't mind," Jack said as Cadell had finished locking the door. "I didn't bring the SUV with me. I thought you'd be driving your car to work—"

Cadell interrupted, "No, I think walking would do us both just fine. Good for the, er, cardiorespiratory…glands." He just couldn't believe he had said something so logical it sounded so stupid.

Jack arched his eyebrows and drawled out an elongated "Okay." The conversation seemed to end there and they walked to the hub in silence, Jack whistling and humming strange songs in idle boredom as Cadell looked at the street names, important corners and buildings he needed to take note of. Halfway through the journey, Jack had begun to ask Cadell how he was the past two days of staying home.

"Just fine." He replied simply.

Jack eyed him. "You know, I can never tell if you're being sarcastic or not. It's that monotonous voice of yours. I told you it isn't healthy."

"Do you want me to sound like a game show host, then, sir?"

The captain gave it a thought. "No, that'll be too obnoxious, and I might have to lock you up with Janet."

"Then, I'd appreciate it if you leave me and my professional composure in peace."

"There's no professionalism in you every night, though," Jack sniggered.

"Well, it's hard to be professional with your tongue always pushing down my throat, isn't it?" Cadell elbowed Jack's side lightly to avoid showing his extreme disgust when he made such a repulsive joke. Did Ianto ever complain about this talk of sex? Whatever, Cadell wasn't one to tolerate this queer—in both ways—conversation. The captain sniggered louder, wondering if the Welshman would mind if they did a quick one in the dark corner over there.

Cadell followed his gaze and growled, "No, you demented bastard." This silenced Jack who stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

A few seconds after talking, Cadell spotted a tall fountain and Jack said to him, "So, to the Info Centre façade or the lift?"

He didn't really understand what his boss had meant about the '_Info Centre façade'_ and so he said, "Lift."

"Grand entrance, eh?"

The pair stood in front of the fountain and Jack gestured Cadell to step on the pavement. Cadell tried hard not to act as if he thought it as some sort of trick and gave Jack some space to stand beside him. He watched as the man fiddled with his watch and almost yelped when the stone rumbled and began to descend. He held fast onto the captain in surprise, and Jack laughed. "Now I know what it'll take you to hold my arm."

"Shut up," Cadell muttered, releasing his grip. He marveled the contraptions and alien tech and the giddy feeling of being a part of a secret organization was back suffocating his lungs again. A pterodactyl, screeching, swooped down and Cadell almost flinched.

"Myfanwy's glad to see you again," Jack told him. "We've been trying to feed her. She won't budge unless it's you, and we didn't want her to die whilst you're away, so we just hurled the chocolates and barbeque sauced blowfish bits at her nest. Was that okay?"

"Uhm," was all Cadell could say.

When they reached the floor, Gwen greeted without looking up from her computer, "Welcome back, Jack."

"And look at what I brought home, kids!" Jack gave a hearty laugh as he jogged to his office. Everyone looked and the girls beamed in wide smiles as Cadell walked towards them.

"Ianto!" Tosh sighed in relief. "For a moment, I thought we're going to die of coffee withdrawal."

"Yes," Gwen giggled, clapping her palms together once. "My cappuccino, please, love."

Cadell looked at his surroundings. After being in awe at the strange technology everywhere in the hub, he had now noticed how it was also overwhelmingly…

…_dirty_.

"Hi, mate," Owen said as he walked over to where he was. "I hope you like my '_Welcome Back_' present." He opened his arms wide and gestured at all the rubbish that swarmed the floor.

"Oh, how thoughtful," Cadell grimaced.

"Sorry, Ianto," Tosh apologized as she casted a glare at the medic. "We tried to stop him, we really did."

Cadell stuffed his hands down his pockets and growled as Owen turned his back to walk away from the scene. "So, what, I'm just the butler who cleans up all this shit?"

"Spot on, mate, spot on."

Cadell turned to glare at Tosh who still wore an apologetic look, then at Gwen who glanced from Owen to him to Owen, then at Jack who busied himself with whatever paperwork he needed to finish pretending not to be amused at today's team squabble. He felt the urge to regurgitate on them as he stormed off to brew coffee, reminding himself, _they're all the same._

"So, Tosh," Jack called out as he walked out of his office, "have you found anything regarding Mirror Rifts yet?"

Tosh sighed in defeat. "Afraid not, Jack. I've been trying, but I can't find any reports on them." She gestured towards Cadell. "But, now that Ianto's here, maybe you could ask him to check the Archives."

"We've all been pissing our trousers trying to decide whether or not to risk going down to the Teaboy's Lair the past two days," Owen remarked. "Since he's here, we could finally get over it."

"Nothing unusual about the mirror we confiscated back at the castle, then?" Jack questioned the medic.

"Nope. Just a normal bloody mirror."

Jack slumped his shoulders. He hated it when they couldn't find any vital information about a certain thing, more so if it happened to be a Rift. They had been toiling away researching on it, trying to trace the historical background, but all they had was Ianto's story they were told nights before. And yet, that had been regarded as a tale and there was no evidence or explanation that it was true. They had also begun researching on The Black Hole Castle, what the locals nicknamed the castle they had visited two days before, to decipher links and helpful information, but they had found out the reigning families all lead normal lives up until the strange disappearances—nothing connecting to the Rift except the queendom's last years. There was nothing else other than that, besides the bit about the structure and that the castle was known for being surrounded by burrows. It didn't exactly help, either, that this was their first encounter with a Rift that took people instead of leaving them, but Tosh had managed to discover that the disappearances happened during negative spikes of Rift Activity.

He nodded and called out to Cadell. "Ianto, I want you to check the Archives for anything pertaining to the Rift back at the castle after you're done with the coffee."

Cadell, without looking up, answered, "'Kay." He studied the coffee grinders and espresso machines in front of him and tried to remember what that trembling man had taught him. He had to constantly jab the gun against his temple to keep him from fainting out of fright. He reviewed the team's individual daily coffees: Gwen's was a cappuccino; Tosh always had a Macchiato but with Dark Cocoa sprinkled over it; Owen drank a normal espresso; and Jack's special coffee was Industrial Strength. The Starbucks manager hadn't a clue as to how that was made, much to Cadell's dismay, but he managed to get a gist of what it contained from Ianto's brief description. With a sigh, he began to work magic with his far-from-godly hands.

As he poured bottled water on the water reservoir, he heard Myfanwy squawk and screech as she flew in circles above them.

"Don't forget to feed her, too," Gwen called out.

Cadell opened the lid of the finely grinded coffee, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth. First, make the coffee; second, serve the coffee; third, clean the hub; fourth, look for files; fifth, feed the bird; and sixth, get his hand checked-up on by Owen. He hasn't been there for an hour and, already, he had a list of things to do.

After a few minutes preparing the coffees, he emerged from his station and walked around the hub, distributing the mugs to each of them. It was when he was about to approach Jack's office that he noticed the three look at him with puzzled faces. "What?" he asked.

"You got mine and Owen's cups mixed up," Tosh said, trying to conceal her blush.

"No," Gwen said raising her finger, "I actually got yours, Tosh."

Tosh looked away and started mumbling incoherently.

"And I got Jack's," Owen piped in, raising a white mug.

Cadell cursed inwardly. "I'm sorry. I, uhm, still feel a bit disoriented."

"You've rested enough to still feel disoriented, Teaboy. What did you do yesterday, get your hair permed?"

"Well, _you_ weren't the assaulted one, fishlips," Cadell snapped.

Owen tightened his fists. "What did you call me, Boss Snogger?"

"Children!" Jack bellowed as he stood by the railing of the staircase, looking down at them in amusement. "No fighting in the hub." He paused. "Unless it's in swimsuits."

Owen rolled his eyes and Cadell, having been startled by what Jack had called them, retorted, "Children?" Everyone eyed him with eyebrows raised. "So, that makes you a pedophile, then?"

Gwen, surprised by Cadell's comment, tried to suppress her giggles. Tosh looked at Jack as if in approval. Before Jack could answer, Owen stormed off grumbling, "Like you have a problem with that, prissy boy."

Cadell rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flip him off.

"Pedophile, hm?" Jack mused. Cadell looked back up at him. "Personally, having about a 2,000-year gap seems perfect, wouldn't you agree?"

Tosh shrugged and Gwen just shook her head as her giggles died down. Cadell coughed, "Sorry, sir." Although what was he sorry for, exactly? 2,000 plus years? What was his Other Self doing shagging his life away with a zombie?

His thoughts were interrupted by Jack's voice. "Where's my coffee?"

"Coming." Cadell walked up the stairs with Jack's coffee in whoever's cup it was and set it down on the table. Jack smiled and stretched his arms upward, sighing, "Finally. I've been waiting for that." He set his pen down and raised his eyebrows. "What's my coffee doing in Gwen's mug?"

"I accidentally poured your coffee in there first," Cadell reasoned.

Jack shrugged and drank a huge amount of the coffee, but as he did so, his eyes widened and he set the mug down coughing.

"That would happen to me too if I gulped down scalding coffee that fast," Cadell remarked.

Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his palm and cringed. "This isn't Industrial Strength," he said between coughs.

Cadell clenched his jaw. "Sorry, sir." He's getting bloody tired of using that word. "Still feel a bit mixed-up. I could brew you another cup, if you want."

"No, it's okay," Jack said waving his hand dismissively. He's seen Ianto disoriented before when he came into work with a migraine. He had accidentally poured in a large amount of tonic in lieu of milk for Gwen's mug, and her coughing fit and nausea had managed to stop the rest of the team in time before they could drink theirs. Ianto had offered to redo the coffee, but when Jack had checked up on him, he was already in the process of pouring revitalizing moisturizer. Now, how a bottle of moisturizer had ended up in the coffee station Ianto never answered and Jack thought it best to never speak of the incident again unless he wanted to die drinking an espresso mixed with hairspray. "Are you sure you can go through the rest of the day?"

"I'm sure that I don't want to be buried in a mountain of rubbish when I come back," Cadell replied. "Courtesy of that walking fish."

Jack laughed. "All right," he said. "I'll need the files, now."

Cadell winced when Myfanwy started screeching again. "I think he wants to go first."

"She."

"She. Right."

Jack watched Cadell walk out the room and stared at the half-empty mug in front of him. He looked thoughtfully at it and decided to approach Owen. When he exited his office, he watched as Cadell rubbed Myfanwy's back, feeding her a bar of Dark Chocolate. It was an odd sight to see; Ianto had never been so at ease when feeding her. Though she trusted him and never attacked him on the spot, Ianto had always been quite intimidated by her. Pet dinosaur or not, she was a creature who wasn't supposed to have a place here on earth. Ianto never trusted an alien. It was only Lisa, but he had never, for the life of him, considered her as one. Now, watching Cadell scratch their Guard-Dino's chin, Jack started to feel that something was off.

In Cadell's case, he stared into the pterodactyl's beady eyes and remembered how he had always nagged his parents into buying him one as a child. It never ended well. His mam would always tell him how her brother was battered by one and never recovered, and he had committed suicide because he had been a Disco Dancer and dancing was his life. Since that accident, he never was able to do a jig anymore and he became completely depressed. The story would always silence Cadell, but he managed to always bring the subject up again the following day. When his parents succumbed to his whines and moans, they had bought him one, finally, on his thirteenth birthday. On that same day, they had to bring him back because his cake was a Strawberry Shortcake, and the pterodactyl happened to favor Strawberry. It was the worst day of his life.

Looking at Myfanwy, Cadell started to rekindle his old dream. But the pterodactyl, having finished the bar of chocolate, lifted her head to lick her feeder, but squawked loudly when she locked eyes with him. She backed away quickly, screeching. Cadell tried to soothe her, but she bit his finger defensively. He cried out.

"What's going on?" Gwen asked.

"She bit me," Cadell replied.

"She's never done that before," mentioned Tosh.

Cadell sighed and looked fondly at the creature flying away back to her nest. "Poor girl. She must be starving she could eat a bloody whale. Owen?"

"Fuck off!"

Jack clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to call their attention once again by yelling like a headmaster during recess. He watched Cadell wash his hands and cringe at the blood seeping through his finger before he headed towards the Archives. Jack cleared his throat and called out, "Ianto."

Cadell looked up. "Yes, sir?"

Jack pointed to the other direction. "That way."

Cadell turned around and jogged out of sight. Jack breathed out and went over to the couch where Owen started reading a magazine. "Owen," he addressed to the medic, "when Ianto comes back, I need you to examine him."

Owen looked up and replied, "You think he's sick?"

"Well, he isn't quite himself today," Jack shrugged his shoulders. "But what I meant was that you inspect his hand. Whatever came out of the Rift that hurt him might be the reason of his weird behavior, and it might provide us something useful for our Mirror Rift issue."

"Fine." Owen flipped the page of his magazine and went back to reading. Jack crossed his arms and continued, "But whilst he's away, I want you to run some tests on Myfanwy in case her bite injected some fatal virus in Ianto's bloodstream."

"She hasn't got rabies, I told you," Owen answered.

Jack scoffed. "And that was, what, about 2 years ago?"

Owen sneered and threw his magazine on the table. He started muttering curses and incoherent ramblings that involved, as Jack managed to make out, "special treatment" for his "pleasure dispenser" and about him having "a dick for a brain".

**~.::.~**

Cadell's mouth dropped open as he laid eyes upon the Archiving Room, its immensity discouraging him from touching the nearest file cabinet. He shook his head out of his trance and scratched his head, wondering what exactly did he need to get. Definitely, something about the Mirror Rift, so he should check the _MI_ and _RI_, right? At least, that's what he remembered from that class back in High School. He also needed to search for that castle. Now, what castle was it? Oh well, he'll have to search in _CA_. Should he search for reflection as well?

He stopped.

He started retrieving the files from the cabinets, pulled out folders and set them down on the floor. He knelt in front of them and flipped through the pages, scanning for anything that would result to suspicions leading to his switching places with his reflection. So far, he wasn't doing so well in blending in. Sooner or later, his 'disorientation' excuse will expire, and what was he going to say when asked? Pushing those worries aside, he read key paragraphs and was amazed by how much it told.

However, he couldn't risk his freedom by handing these folders to Jack. With a menacing look, he ran off to do the part that he always loved during his criminal escapades.

Destroying the evidence.

**~.::.~**

Cadell emerged from the Archives with only one folder and approached Jack in his office. Not bothering to knock, he entered the room and tapped his fingers against the folder. "I got it, sir."

Jack looked up and motioned for Cadell to hand it to him. "Mirror Rift?"

Cadell shook his head. "Afraid not, sir. There was nothing of the sort. I only managed to locate accounts and news clippings of the disappearances centuries ago."

Jack sighed and slammed his face against the palms of his hands. "That legend? Just that?"

"Sorry."

Jack leaned against his chair. "Nevermind. I guess it's hopeless."

Cadell nodded slowly. "Do you think, sir," he offered, "that this is the first time a Mirror Rift has been discovered by Torchwood?"

Jack pressed his lips into a straight line. "I'd like to think so. Unless the previous Torchwoods destroyed all evidence of ever encountering one for some heinous reason." He looked up at Cadell. "Nothing from your Torchwood London days?"

Cadell shook his head. Jack breathed out. "Thanks, Ianto. You can leave."

Cadell set the folder down and exited, but not before hearing Jack remind him, "The hub's still a mess, by the way."

He sighed and, in an annoyed manner, grabbed a garbage bag from the Coffee Area to start cleaning up. He bit his tongue when he remembered how Nathan always yelled at him to clean his room, dispose of his rubbish properly, put his clothes in the laundry hamper and not on the bathroom floor, and blah blah blah. It always started and ended the same exact way.

"_Where are you going?"_

"_What do you care?"_

"_Don't leave your shit all over the living room."_

"_Hire a maid."_

"_Come back here!"_

_Slam of the door._

Of course, he always won against the man with the parental figure complex.

"Ianto?"

Cadell lifted his head and looked at Owen inquisitively.

"Come here before you tire yourself," he said.

Cadell rolled his eyes and continued his clean-up. "I'm just enjoying your present, Owen."

Owen sighed and rubbed his temple. "Jack said something about a check-up, so get that dick out of your arse."

Cadell smirked. "I don't think it would come off of Jack so easily, even after those many nights of—"

"Just come here!"

Cadell discarded the bag and walked to the Autopsy Bay where Owen was in the process of washing his hands. He took a seat on the chair already placed in the center and threw his head back in comfort. "So," he said, "you think I'm an alien now?"

Owen looked over his shoulder and shrugged. Cadell gulped and felt his heart starting to race in apprehension and fear that his plan to stay in that world would fail. He tried to conceal his tension with glares and jaw clenches directed at the medic who was already pulling his latex gloves.

"I'm just following orders, mate," Owen replied as he brought out his stethoscope. "Coat and waistcoat off."

Cadell removed his coat, his brown waistcoat, undid his tie and unbuttoned his long-sleeved polo shirt. Owen had been leaning against the staircase railing and tapping his foot in impatience. "How you survive in 3 layers—a vest? 4 layers, then—of clothing whilst running around with a gun trying to catch some alien bozo I will never know."

_I'll never know, either, _Cadell thought to himself.

Owen inserted the ear pieces into his ears and placed the metal chest piece under Cadell's vest and on his chest. His eyes turned to slits when his eyebrows furrowed. "Who's winning the rugby in here?"

Cadell bit his tongue. "All right, I confess" he moaned. "Jack and I were left one night here in the hub, and we found your stethoscope lying by the couch, and, as you know, lots of things you can do with a stethoscope."

"I'll stop you right there," Owen coughed, unwilling to hear anymore. Cadell himself was tired of making sex jokes, especially when it involved that Captain Jack Harkness prat. He was certainly worse than Nathan.

Owen checked Cadell's lungs as he placed the chest piece against his back, Cadell shuddering at the cold. Then, he pulled out a flashlight from the drawer and flashed it in Cadell's ear before inspecting his mouth, then his eyes. But, when Owen clicked it on, he paused and tilted his head. "Are you wearing contact lenses?"

Cadell gulped. "Yes?"

"Since when?"

"…yesterday?"

"What the bloody hell blinded you yesterday?"

Cadell couldn't answer that one. "It wasn't a can of hairspray, if that's what you think."

Owen rolled his eyes. "All right, fine, I'm sorry, mate."

Cadell shrugged.

"So, really, what happened to you?"

Now, the following response wasn't a lie Cadell had crafted on the spot. He retold his childhood experience at a park where he and his group of friends had gone to have a picnic. His mam had brought them there and all of them thought how brilliant it was to make fresh lemonade, so she had also brought along her citrus juicer, knives and everything essential for their plan. They, being 10 years of age, offered to slice and juice the lemons themselves. Ki had gloated that it was as easy as applying nail polish, but had accidentally squeezed the lemon right into his eye. After consistent rubbing and protests to go to the doctor, it had lead to Cadell's reading blindness. He had no trouble with his sight, but was hopeless when it came to texts. He had forgiven here, then, but now, with hatred consuming every fibre of his being, he could curse her for all eternity.

But, of course, he had to leave out the details.

"I wanted to make lemonade and, at one point, the cutting of the lemon was done messily, and the juice hit my eyes. Massive rubbing occurred and you probably know what happened next."

"Bugger," Owen muttered. "Is this permanent?"

"I can see perfectly," he answered. "I just can't read."

"I assume you've told Jack, then?"

"Er," Cadell confessed, "no."

Owen sighed and set his torch down. "Let's go check on your hand, then."

After the check-up, Cadell had to fuss over his clothes wishing he could just leave them as is before he continued cleaning the hub in silent dissent. Owen made his way up Jack's office and knocked on his door. Jack looked at him and beckoned him in. Owen entered and was immediately asked about the examination.

"Nothing we should shit our pants about," Owen said.

"Good," Jack breathed out. "I guess he really was tired, then. His hand?"

"Just normal cuts," the medic replied. "Like he's shaken Edward Scissorhands' hand. Not contaminated. Nothing to get hyped up on about Myfanwy's bite, either."

Jack nodded slowly. All early doubts started to fade.

"There's just one thing, though."

Jack leaned forward. "Lay it on me."

Owen shrugged. "He can't read anymore."

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief and surprise. "Come again?" He asked, rising from his seat. "You're telling me—" he pressed his hands against the surface of his desk. "—that the man with the sharpest eye and an equally sharp mind and a sharp tongue to match '_can't read anymore_'?"

"Lemonade mishap." Owen said simply. "He was wearing contacts a while ago."

"No wonder his eyes were oddly glistening," Jack pondered. "I should have asked him about it this morning."

"Let me guess, you thought he was just star-struck?" Owen eyed Jack's wide grin. "Cocky asshole."

"Nice choice of words, Owen." Jack snickered at Owen's look of disgust. "You can go."

**~.::.~**

Jack checked his wrist watch and decided that it was the best time for the team to go home. He walked out of his office and found only Tosh sitting at her desk. He approached her and said, "I appreciate your hard work, Tosh, but it's a hopeless case. There's just nothing we can find."

"That's odd to hear from you, Jack," she glanced at him, smiling. "I thought you as the type to spit on quitters."

"I regurgitate on them," he corrected, chuckling. "But we shouldn't waste our time trying to dig out what isn't buried. As Ianto said, this could be the first time Torchwood—or anyone, for that matter—has ever encountered this type of rift."

Tosh nodded in understanding.

Jack looked around. "Where are the rest?"

"Oh," Tosh stood up and lead Jack to the Autopsy Bay where they saw Owen and Gwen having an arm wrestling match. "They've been at it since an hour ago."

Jack leaned towards the railings, setting his foot on the lowest bar. "Who's winning?"

Gwen did a double take and Owen, smirking at the distraction, slammed his hand over Gwen's. Gwen cried out and Owen threw his fists in the air in victory.

"Ha!" Owen screamed. "Point goes to me and in just—" he brought out a silver stopwatch from his pocket and pressed the button on top. "—1 minute and 24 seconds."

"Oh, whatever," Gwen huffed. "Jack broke my concentration! The fight would have ended up longer if it weren't for that."

"Not my fault you can't resist my sexy voice," Jack defended. "So, who's winning?"

Gwen glanced at the score sheet before rolling her eyes. "Owen, but only by 4 points."

"4 points better than you, PC Cooper," Owen sniggered.

"It's not fair, you cheat!"

"All's fair in love and war, sweetcakes."

Jack cleared his throat. "All right, break it up." He gave a sidelong glance at Tosh who glared at them in envy. He looked back at the pair and frowned when he stared at the stopwatch Owen was holding. "Isn't that Ianto's?"

"Got it from his station," he shrugged. "The bloke's sleeping on the couch, anyway. He wouldn't realize it had been gone."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Tosh muttered.

Jack sniggered. "Just put it back in one piece. That's our favourite toy."

Owen's eyes widened and Gwen threw her head back in laughter as Owen slammed it on the counter, then wiped his hand against his shirt.

Jack grinned and announced, "Time to go home, kids."

He watched them gather their belongings and put on their coats and jackets before heading out, saying a goodbye to each other as they disappeared through the cog door. When silence took over the hub, Jack made his way to the couch, staring thoughtfully at the sleeping figure on it. He chuckled as he asked himself if it was déjà vu.

"Back where we started," he said to himself as he attempted waking him up. After a few earlobe tugs and shakes, Cadell groaned and opened his eyes.

"Sleeping Beauty," Jack grinned at Cadell's look of disapproval. "Time to go."

Cadell blinked and rubbed his eyes, stretching his arms as he yawned. "Sorry, I was bored."

"And tired," Jack decided. "You've been cleaning Owen's '_Welcome Back_' gift the entire day."

Cadell only rolled his eyes. He stood and said, "I'll go now. Goodnight, sir." He turned towards the cog door before pausing, shaking his head in spite of himself because he had no idea how to leave the hub. He glanced back at Jack and, bracing himself, threw his hand behind Jack's head to pull him into a kiss. He stopped himself from gouging his eyes out as he felt hands set on his waist to pull him closer and, before all this would end up badly, he pulled away to tell Jack, "Walk me out."

"Lift?" He asked.

"Cog door."

And as they exited the hub with Jack's arm fixed around Cadell's waist, the younger tried to tell himself reasons why he shouldn't pull the trigger aimed at his head and die on the spot.

* * *

**Further Author's Notes: **Next Chapter would focus on Ianto. :D Read and Review~ Oh, and early warning. I might not be able to update this fast because tomorrow, I'm going back to school. I won't be able to find time anymore. It sucks being a Sophomore and having 13 subjects hurled towards you. :( So, I apologize in advance for the delay.


	7. Chapter Six: In the Office

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: It's high time we learn who Nathan is.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Ianto had woken up drooling over the armrest of the couch at quarter to midnight alone. After he had wiped his spit and cleaned its remnants on the furniture, he made his way up to his room to continue his slumber.

When he awoke 7 hours later, he instantly and habitually prepared a cup of coffee whilst he tried to map out his entire day. Ianto was one who always made a point to make lists for the sake of being organized. His almost Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder was more of a blessing to him and the people around him than something he should cure himself of. It kept him grounded, albeit stressed whenever he had to insert new tasks, decide which one to prioritize more, and delete other tasks because it simply wouldn't be met. It all depended, really, on how the aliens saw fit to drop by. Usually, he stopped right after '_do chores_' which mainly involved making and serving the coffee, cleaning, feeding their pterodactyl and every other whim from his teammates.

After mixing his sugar and cream, he inserted the spoon in his mouth and brought his cup to the table. He clicked his pen and wrote at the top '_Timetable_.' He carefully considered the heading, but quickly scratched it off and replaced it with '_To-do Today_', then started his list.

_ - Make self coffee_

_ - Wonder about making Nathan a cup_

_ - Make a decision_

_ - Make self breakfast (Last resort: toast with cheese slices)_

_ - Prep self for day_

_ - Complain at current state of being_

_ - Launder clothes (Priority: Caretaker's uniform)_

_ - Iron shirt_

_ - Greet Nathan (Receive, then, an eye roll, a grunt and an insult as a reply)_

_ - Resist cleaning more_

_ - Find something to do before work_

_ - Report to work_

He stopped, heaving a sigh.

_ - Lunch Break at 1:00 pm (Hopefully a heavy meal)_

_ - Go home at 9:30 pm_

_ - Make self dinner (Last resort: No dinner. Just water.)_

_ - Prep self for bed_

_ - Sleep_

He felt odd having to list his day completely right until the last task of getting to bed. It had been long since he's done that. In fact, he can't very much remember when he last exceeded '_do chores_'. Except, maybe, when he places a little side note of '_have a bit of _How's your Father _with Jack_' as he fancied. He remembered how it would end up looking like a small illegible scrawl in the corner to avoid people from knowing when they sneak a peek.

He stood from the table and went on to hunting for food he knew, but still hoped against, was nonexistent in the house save for a few. He managed to find crackers and a spread in a random cupboard and said to himself how his supposed 'last resort' stepped down a few levels. He made his breakfast as swiftly as he could, merely slapping the spread on the crackers and biting it whole. The crackers were only a bit stale and the spread tasted like nothing he has ever tasted before. He drowned away the lingering taste with coffee. After his sad excuse for breakfast, he proceeded to get himself ready for the day, even though his work wouldn't start until later. It was difficult for him to adjust to his new environment no matter what he does, and having to prove himself to gain everyone's trust was edging him too far from adjustment. He was uncomfortable having to brush his teeth using someone else's brush and having to use soap seemingly stolen from a hotel that made him smell like a Lemon Strepsil; his shirts were all too tight and his trousers all too loose save for some but they looked as if they were worn during a stampede; he only had one pair of shoes and they were trainers one seemed to have gotten 5 years too long in possession. He huffed as he stared at himself in front of the mirror. He never really did become fed up with complaining about his state of being every morning—having to prepare himself for the day as this man greatly different from him.

After an internal tantrum, he gathered the dirty clothes from the hamper including his 'uniform' and headed on to the washing machine inside the basement. He found himself quite fortunate to not have to make a trip to the Laundrette just to have his shirt cleaned. It seemed as though Nathan had once upon a time lived a 'normal' life—one where he took it slow and actually made home cooked meals.

He started up the washing machine as he checked the tag for an important detail he needed to take note of. After assuring himself that it was indeed safe, he opened the door of the front-loader and placed it inside. As the shirt was being cleansed, he proceeded to separate the whites from the colored, further dividing the latter into their individual colors. He checked each tag and set aside those that needed hand washing. When his shirt was done, he transferred it into the tumble dryer after cleaning the lint filter. Afterwards, he took it out and checked it thoroughly before he ironed it well. He did the same process carefully with each group of clothes, occasionally wiping his brow and wishing to dive into the washing process to cool himself. He ought to have taken a bath after he had done his household work, others would say, but he's definitely had much worse than this. Right now, he was in jeans and a shirt inside a basement whilst washing clothes. In the normal scheme of things c/o Torchwood, he wears four layers of clothing and leather shoes whilst running around the streets under the sun chasing a goddamn alien everyday. His situation at that moment was nothing compared to what he was used to.

When he emerged with neatly folded garments, He could already hear Nathan walking to and fro in his room. He set the basket on the floor and ticked off the items he had already done. He could almost whistle a happy tune for his feats. Now, who was that who had remarked once, "Best whistle than destroy my eardrums with your lousy singing," to which he had replied, "Well, my lousy singing's nothing to your lousy dancing, love."?

_Oh yeah_, Ianto closed his eyes, _Lisa._

His brief wistful thinking was soon interrupted by the sound of feet padding on the wooden staircase. He hauled the basket up again and called out, "Morning."

"Yes, yes, I know that," came a hasty reply.

Ianto quirked his eyebrows and audibly said to himself an "Oh," when Nathan came into view with a cell phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he buttoned his turnups.

"The problem is that the company was supposed to receive that package _yesterday_," he stressed, straightening his tie and transferring the phone to his other ear. "If they failed to send it because of delivering complications, we should have been noted beforehand. Didn't I already explain this to you? If they couldn't make it, we can't put them in."

Nathan paused as he listened to whoever was on the other line—his secretary maybe—whilst he continued to pace around in attempt to cool himself down. Ianto kept his gaze at him even when his fingers started to ache by the weight of his load. He almost flinched when Nathan stopped in front of him, eying the basket of clothes suspiciously. Ianto merely shrugged in concealment of his complacency. When Nathan breathed in, Ianto had expected him to say something snide or question him about it, but the other had just started responding to the phone. "How hard is it for them to understand that they can't force themselves into this?" He walked away, scratching the back of his head. "No matter what arguments they will throw at you, you have to turn them down. Honestly, this definitely—"

Ianto checked his watch and decided to make use of the time placing back the clean clothes in their respective drawers and closets. He would then set aside the unwashed garments for tomorrow. He walked up the stairs watching Nathan pace around the room. He paused when he caught him peer inside the coffee maker, taking in its strong scent before deciding against it and going back to scolding whoever was on the other line. Ianto let a small smile escape from his lips as he assured himself, _he won't last long without tasting _my_ coffee._ He continued making his way up the stairs with his head held high.

"—me again. If they're going to be this smattering, best let Matt—err, Sir Tucker—give them the upbraiding. I'll bet they'd shut up then."

After the long clarification, Nathan hung up and rubbed his face in vexation. Waking up first thing in the morning with 3 missed calls—one of which were from the telecommunications company, and the rest from his secretary Cath—and having to deal with this issue which could easily be solved with a firm 'NO'. He didn't have to—_want_ to—contend with stubborn and unprofessional businesses just because his secretary wasn't pushing hard enough. Plus, why did _he_ have to be the one concerned? If anything, complications should be directed to the boss. Yet, being second-in-command—a fact he would admit quite bitterly—he understands that it's his job to look over everything unless considered highly urgent that it should be transferred to the care of the president. So, whilst Nathan was swamped with calls and messages and appointments enough to have his hair pulled out with balled fists at the end of the day everyday, _Sir Tuckers _would be confined inside the four walls of his office doing God-knows-what. If Nathan happened to catch him playing Pacman in his computer, he'd jump off a building.

Inwardly sighing, he grabbed his suitcase, checked for all his essentials and walked outside his home towards his car. Glancing towards the locked door from his window, he drove on to his office.

**~.::.~**

His office was a tall 26-storey building that held a great reputation to other businesses and corporate companies. What Nathan did was the key to these companies' success—no exaggeration there. _Oliver-Hullin & Co._ specializes in Research and Other Tests (as stated in its complete company name) and it was responsible for a new product's experimentation. Everybody thinks that a company itself does everything, but the truth was all they have to do was conceptualize their idea, determine the needed materials and the span of time, and leave it to _O-H&Co._ to make it possible. Once a unit is made, they hand it back to the client company with files of how they had conducted the test for the company to imitate to produce the desired number of units themselves.

It was a tough job, especially when work piled on everyone's desks as more and more companies create new innovations. _Damn 21__st__ century_, Nathan snorted.

Nathan parked in front of the building. He gazed up and sighed before heading inside to be greeted by the lobby receptionist and other employees and workers. He pressed the arrow-up button of the lift and let it carry him to the 23rd floor. He always looked at either the lift doors or the ground whenever he rode it up. No one really questioned him about it, but the only reason for that is because they never noticed. At least it saves him the trouble of having to give a confusing and naïve reply.

The truth was that he despised looking at his reflection at the mirror walls. It made him think, and when he thought, it was always about his work, Cadell or mostly where he stood in life. Looking at himself at work and wearing corporate attire he thought he'd only wear during special family occasions and school defenses made him wonder how he ended up in that position. He once said how, as a child, he never really got to plan what he'd do with himself after College and he regretted that lost opportunity. He only got to business because his parents willed him to when they realized his indecisiveness.

But he was great at it. That should be the only thing that mattered, right? As long as you showed your expertise towards the job, it was fine and you'd definitely go far.

Sometimes, Nathan managed to kid himself before he would turn away in shame.

The doors slid open and he strode out and looked at everyone hunched on their desks doing paperwork, answering calls, typing away on their computers or all of the above. When he passed by, they would look up with utmost respect and greet him a good morning. Others who failed to do so he shrugged off because he didn't really need that much attention anyway.

He walked up to Cath and said, "How'd it go?"

She looked up and sighed, "Good morning, sir. I managed to get them to stop calling, but I'm not quite sure if I've had convinced them enough."

_They'll call again, _Nathan grumbled in certainty and crossed his arms. "Are there any other messages?"

"Just e-mails, sir."

"All right," he walked around and unlocked the door to his room. "And get me my usual breakfast, please."

"Black coffee with honey and an egg sandwich, sir?"

He swung the door open. "Make it a chicken. I'll pay you when you get up."

"Right away, sir."

Nathan closed the door and dropped his suitcase on the chair placed against the wall. He stretched and shoved the papers to the side of his desk to give himself space. Just as he sat down, there was a knock on the door. "Well, that was fast," he said as he started up his computer.

"What was fast?" a voice echoed before a sound of the door being shut. Nathan looked up in surprise and saw Matt walking casually towards him. Nathan stood and said, "Good morning, sir. Sorry, I thought you were my secretary."

"It's all right," Matt answered. "I wanted to talk to you about the delayed files."

"Oh," Nathan yanked his suitcase off the chair and pulled it towards the desk for his boss to sit on. "You should have called me in your office instead, though."

"No, no. I wanted to see how you've been keeping your room. I see your table is flooded with paperwork. Shouldn't you get Cath to archive them?"

Nathan shrugged. He couldn't mention his secretary's incompetence to most things. She was quite nice and amiable and she really did want that job. It supported her family, and he didn't want to hurt her by firing her. "Anyway, sir," he tried to change the subject, "the files?"

"Ah, yes." Matt took his seat and pulled on a stern face. "I managed to talk to the head of the company."

Nathan jerked his head up slightly.

"It just so happened that the representative was complaining how he had to answer to a _representative_ of a representative of our company, so the head took matters into his own hands," Matt replied. "Anyway, I managed to explain to him our situation as a company laden with propositions and whatnot. I made him understand that, as _our_ client, they must accommodate to _our_ provisions."

Matt mustered a smile while Nathan stayed stoic. He just couldn't bring himself to believe how it took only, what, a 5-minute conversation? to chastise this stubborn business company. It shouldn't come as a surprise, actually, for after all Matt _was_ in the highest position.

"I did try to tell them that," Nathan raised meekly.

"Yes, yes," Matt waved his hand. "Don't worry; I know how busy and stressed you must be. Hey, at least you get handsomely paid."

Nathan twitched his lips in attempt of a grin, but disliked using money as motivation to keep up with his job. He started clicking his pen. "So, sir, what did the company say?"

"They agreed, thankfully, to make their proposals by next month. It will give them more time to polish and add a few more touches."

Nathan sunk further down his seat. "You make it seem easy for you." Matt raised his eyebrows. "Even then, people liked you and complied with your requests no matter how silly they were."

"Silly?"

"You asked that girl one time to put an M&M between her front teeth."

"The one who got braces the following week because the teacher saw?"

"Yes."

"She's a toothpaste model now, isn't she?"

"See?" Nathan groaned. "It's like you make miracles or something."

Matt smiled. "Now, no need for that kind of praise."

A knock on the door sounded before Cath allowed herself in with a tray of Nathan's breakfast. When she saw Matt and he watching her, she blushed a deep crimson and squeaked, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have gone in without you saying so! I'm—"

"No," Matt told her, standing from his chair. "Go ahead."

Cath awkwardly shuffled her steps across the office to hand the food to Nathan who gave a polite half-smile in acknowledgement. When she left, Matt sat back down the chair and said, "I see what your problem is."

Nathan raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his coffee.

"People are too intimidated by you. You always look like this." Matt cast the other a dark look. Nathan merely rolled his eyes. "It's true," Matt defended.

"I just have a lot of things in my mind." Nathan took a big bite from his sandwich.

"You'll get wrinkles if you allow yourself to be stressed with work, you know."

"It isn't always work…" He mumbled into his sandwich before taking another bite and a gulp of his coffee. When he glanced towards his boss, Matt stared at him thoughtfully. Nathan had hoped he didn't understand what he meant and shrugged.

"So, how's Cadell?" Apparently, he _had_ caught his drift. Matt had met Cadell once during an office party. Nathan had brought him along to monitor him because of the recent crime the boy had committed days before. Of course, Matt hadn't been told exactly why, but he had guessed so using the miracles of background information, context clues and people watching.

Nathan drank once more. He didn't know what to say. Usually, when people asked—and it was only _rarely_ that they asked—he would reply with a grunt. However, according to his observations at present, he doesn't seem at all like himself. Nathan had his own speculations, but refused to justify them. He, then, summed up everything he's observed in one word: "Odd."

"That's new."

Nathan watched his boss rise from his chair once again. "Well, I won't take too much of your time now. We've got a busy day ahead of us."

Again, a mumble: "Don't we always?"

Matt opened the door before looking back at him once more. "And you don't worry so much about your mate." He paused. "Not unless he starts washing your undergarments."

Nathan almost choked on his coffee.

* * *

**Further Author's Notes: **In case you forgot, Sir Matt(hew) Tuckers is Captain John Hart's Other Self.

Also, I'd like to inform you that Nathan's work is purely fiction because I doubt there really is a company in charge of experimenting and researching about other companies' ideas to solidify them or tell them what the impossible factor about the product is.

And if you all are wondering, Cath is no one in particular. Just a random secretary who messes up a lot of things. Poor girl. I chose the name Cath because of Death Cab for Cutie, the band whose song called _My Mirror Speaks_ will be sort of like the theme song of this story.


	8. Chapter Seven: Slowly Attaching

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: It's Summer time~ That means more time to upload chapters. :)

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Slowly Attaching**

The next day, Ianto couldn't take it anymore.

**~.::.~**

So when he got home later that night, Nathan's angry footsteps from upstairs resonated the house before a bellowing of "Cadell!"

Ianto watched him descend the staircase in an unnerved manner. Nathan came dangerously close to him and said darkly, "You never stop, do you?"

The Welshman would have quipped him with a witty remark of sarcasm but he thought better. Instead, he let himself be berated strongly by the other.

"Just when I start doubting my earlier speculations on your sudden '_transformation_,' you go ahead and prove me right and _god—_" he growled a growl Ianto would have smiled at had it been Jack and not his alternate self. "—what did you do with the money?"

Ianto rolled his eyes as he shrugged off his backpack from his shoulders. Nathan started to pace the room. "Cleaning the house? Knowing where my things are? _Sucking up_ to me?" He scoffed. "I should have known something was wrong. I just can't believe you're thieving from _me._" He stopped and looked fondly at Ianto who now had a firm hold of his backpack in front of him whilst his free hand moved to the zipper. "And you had a sloppy job with it," Nathan continued. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the significant number of money that had gone missing from my backup wallet? Did you think I would suppose it be someone else who took it? Do you think I'm so daft as to believe that you really—"

"Oh, shush," Ianto said when he fully opened his bag to pull out a shopping plastic.

"What is that now?" Nathan asked impatiently.

"Groceries." Nathan quirked his eyebrows. "I promise, if I have to live another day in this barren land, I would drop dead on the spot."

Ianto placed the plastic on the table and opened it, taking out a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, spreads, small boxes of cereal, assorted meat and others. He began fixing the items in their proper places in the kitchen as Nathan watched in bewilderment. _Stumped yet again._

"I don't understand you," he finally confessed.

"It's simple," Ianto replied, turning his head to look at him. "I need to eat, and whilst you hurry out every morning minutes before your agreed upon clock in, skipping breakfast because you spend money on your three meals a day, I'm stuck scavenging for nonexistent _edible_ food around the house because I'm bloody broke."

"You steal food from displays."

"You never feed me to stop me," Ianto was getting frustrated for Cadell's sake.

"You think I hadn't tried?" Nathan raised his voice. "Were you really so blind that whole time I've been trying to comfort you because you're so fucking miserable? Hadn't you seen my attempts in trying to keep my firm hold on your hand whilst you're dangling on the edge of your self destruction?"

"That isn't the point," Ianto almost yelled. "You gave up."

Nathan paused.

_This is not good_, Ianto mentally smacked his forehead. He shouldn't be saying these things. He was only _acting_ as Cadell, but he had no knowledge whatsoever about his life. There was no evidence other than those pictures in Nathan's locked memories. They weren't even in his Other Self's perspective.

He breathed out and turned around to face the other once again to apologize but saw him gone from where he last stood. Ianto massaged his temples in groaned. He wondered how well it must be going for his reflection at Torchwood.

**~.::.~**

Cadell found himself running with the speed of lightning and cursed his stylish shoes for hindering him from maximum speed and effort. He took a quick glance behind him and saw Jack following suit with gun in hand. "Ianto!" He screamed.

_Shit_, Cadell thought as his body slowly caved in to exhaustion. He shook his head in refusal and hurriedly scanned his surroundings for a place to hide. He passed by buildings and through alleyways in desperate search. From a close distance, he could hear the Captain call out to the other team members.

"I'm not going to die tonight," Cadell assured himself and whoever was there listening to him. He spotted a ladder metres ahead and grinned in triumph. He looked back once more and braced himself. He took a leap and held fast onto the bars of the ladder, pulling himself up as fast as he could. He looked at Jack still running and stretched his arm towards him, calling "Jack! Hold on!"

Jack jumped and gripped on his hand to pull himself to safety. He fall on top of Cadell in tire as the both of them breathed heavily. Cadell almost complained about Jack's weight hadn't Jack pressed a finger upon his lips to silence him.

They could hear the padding of footsteps and the sound of snarls below them before they disappeared all together. Once calm, Jack brought himself up to his knees and stared at Cadell's fatigued body below him. The two locked eyes and managed a weak chuckle.

"That was bloody close," Cadell sighed.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Why the hell didn't you shoot it when I told you to?"

Cadell couldn't answer that. How could he say that it was his first encounter with a weevil and was absolutely aghast at the sight of one? He'd only heard of them; in fact, everyone in his town had only ever _heard_ of them but never seen them with their own two, three, whatever eyes. They were objects of fright for children who disobeyed their parents and who didn't go to bed when told. Weevils, as everyone knew, really, were factory workers, only working at night when no one usually roamed the streets to hear them, then shipping the goods at the light of day by human workers who also claimed to have never seen them up close. Usually, he would hear rumours here and there about one, two or a pack of them going rogue, destroying the place in frenzy. Officers would barge in and sedate them before transporting them to a secret location. No one actually knows where they take them and what they do to them. Now, having to be chased down by these reclusive creatures, he began to make his guesses.

"I had a bad feeling, sir," he told him instead. "Anyway, I managed to save your arse, didn't I?"

Jack smirked. "All right, fine. You get credit for that one. I would have been awfully pissed had they ruined this outfit to kill me."

"Not to mention how I'd have to drag your body back to the SUV."

"Yeah."

Jack sat down beside Cadell and leaned his back to the wall. "You were fast. I haven't seen you run like that before. Practicing?"

Cadell sat up as well, wiping the sweat on his forehead. "No, just used to it."

The last statement came out by itself, and before he could explain, Jack was nodding his head. "Frequent weevil hunts. They'll be the death of me."

"Among the long list of things?" Cadell joked.

Jack looked at him contemplatively. Silence reigned for a few seconds before Cadell suggested contacting Tosh and the others.

"Tosh?" Jack said to the comms. "Yes, we're fine. How are Owen and Gwen with their pack?"

There was a few beats of silence as Jack listened to the Japanese girl at the other end. His eyebrows furrowed. "Hesitating to Owen? What do you mean?" Silence. "We'll just talk about this later. We managed to escape our handful. Maybe it's best to withdraw. They haven't done any more harm than scaring that homeless man shitless anyway. Plus, we led them down far from the main streets. Tell the other two to go back to the SUV. All right, thanks Tosh."

Jack sighed and glanced at the Welshman who, at that point, had his eyes closed. "Tired?" the Captain asked.

Cadell looked at him pointedly. "I just ran across the distance from a pack of weevils in shoes that aren't fit for _jogging_ let alone running, defied gravity and almost scratched my already injured hand from the rusting steps of the ladder, and then hauled a man weighing more than I do up to freedom and was crushed beneath him when I did so. Me, tired? You're quite the joker."

Jack laughed and shook his head. "Well, Jones Ianto Jones, want to go back to the SUV?"

"Please, I'm too tired to say anything sarcastic now," Cadell grunted, pulling himself to his feet. He pulled Jack up as well who instantly pushed him back against the wall to kiss him.

"God," Cadell groaned, trying to stifle his annoyance. "Now isn't the best time for this."

"They can wait," Jack answered, pushing his tongue back inside the other's mouth.

Cadell had said once when dissecting a Griffon-Frog hybrid that trying to cut off its heart as swift and as painless as possible was the most disgusting and uncomfortable experience he had ever felt. Now, with his tongue trying to push Jack's out of his mouth, he could take that claim back. But when Jack's hands slid from his waist down to his arse, he hastily bit on Jack's tongue.

Jack pulled back, putting a hand up to his mouth in pain. "Ouch! What…?"

Cadell pushed himself off the way and straightened his clothes. "The weevils might come back any minute now. I suggest we stop fooling around before we both kill ourselves." He made his way past Jack and down the ladder. He paused before he jumped down and said, "Although that isn't much of a problem to you, now, isn't it?"

Jack pressed his lips together and kept quiet as he followed Ianto down the ladder.

"I wasn't the one who got the both of us in trouble," Jack chimed after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Just to remind you."

"I'm not the one trying to get us both _back_ in trouble," Cadell murmured back. "Just so you know."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. After debating with himself whether or not to ask, he caved in, saying, "If there wasn't a pack of weevils trying to claw our eyes out tonight, would you consider it?"

Cadell rolled his eyes. _Honestly, could this man be any more childish? _"Maybe."

There was something in Jack's expression—the way his eyes lit up and his lips curved upward instantaneously—that made the other shrug off his petulance to replace it with a small smirk. The two continued walking back in silence, but feeling lighter and less awkward that earlier on. When they reached the parked SUV, Owen, Gwen and Tosh were already tapping their feet in impatience.

"There you two are," Owen said in exasperation. "And what's with those smug faces? If you were shagging each other in some dark alleyway somewhere, I swear I'm going to kill myself right now."

"Could we at least get us some popcorn before you do?" Cadell remarked, opening the door to let himself in.

"I could kill him," Owen gritted through his teeth as everyone else hopped inside the van. "I could just kill him."

"Oh, we managed to sedate one that came at us, Jack," Gwen informed as the Captain buckled his seatbelt. "It's at the back."

"Came at you?" Jack repeated as he started the car. "I thought Tosh said they all hesitated towards Owen?"

"She ran too fast," Owen answered. "When I got there, she was dragging the thing with her whilst a whole bunch of them started to run after us."

Jack shrugged. "Huh. At least Janet has a new playmate."

"Neighbor," Tosh corrected.

"I wonder how weevils mate," Gwen said, giggling at the thought.

As the Torchwood team spoke and chuckled and discussed their new alien captive-slash-pet, Cadell slowly drifted off to sleep.

When they arrived at the hub, Tosh had to shake Cadell awake. He and Owen carried the weevil to the cells whilst Jack bid Tosh and Gwen goodbye. Once they locked it up, Jack appeared from the doorway and stared at the alien. "I think I'll call her Bebe." Both Owen and Cadell looked at him in scrutiny. In unison, Owen shrugged and Cadell rolled his eyes before both looked back at their new weevil.

Jack turned to Owen and said, "We need to find out more about that incident a while ago."

"I was afraid you'll say that," the medic replied.

"And Ianto," he turned to Cadell. "Get our new friend a file of her own."

"Yes, sir," Cadell answered as he watched the two disappear from the doorway. He stared at the creature before him and sighed, feeling pity for the way it was being treated. He placed a hand against the clear door, blocking a breathing hole. Bebe suddenly jerked its head upward and slammed its body against the door, letting out a piercing growl. Cadell jumped away in surprise, hitting his head on the wall behind him. He drew a few ragged breaths before racing out of the cells.

**~.::.~**

Ianto stared at the clock hanging on the Kitchen Wall. About two hours time, Nathan would be rushing to get himself prepared for work.

Ianto turned his gaze to the food he was cooking for breakfast and thought. He was _this_ close to slamming his head on a hot stainless steel pan. How could he have been so daft and gave more excuses for Nathan _not_ to trust him? So far, his temper and his plans were at war with each other to a high degree. He needed to make peace and fast before he completely loses the key to his freedom.

He headed up to Nathan's room and slowly crept inside. Careful in not disturbing the peaceful slumber of the man tangled in his sheets and drooling on his pillow, Ianto lifted the alarm clock and set the alarm to ring an hour earlier than usual. After replacing it atop the bedside table, he swiftly exited the room to continue his cooking.

After half an hour, just as Ianto was about to set the table, he heard the loud obnoxious ringing of the alarm going off, a thud, a curse and more thuds. Ianto quickly fixed the food and brought out two mugs for their freshly brewed coffee. As he poured the coffee in the mugs, the door finally swung open and Nathan's angry footsteps resonated against Ianto's skull. But he had gotten himself used to it.

"_Cadell!_" Nathan roared, before appearing at the doorway. His vehemence turned into surprise as calm blue eyes stared back at him, tapping his fingers on the table laden with food. Nathan blinked a few times before realizing that, no, this wasn't a dream. Nathan looked at Ianto and opened his gaping mouth wider to speak before Ianto cut him off. "Before you say anything, I would like to point out that I'm quite famished and would like to eat before they get cold." And with that, he sat on the chair and began slicing the French toast doused with sugar.

Nathan swallowed hard and sat down opposite the other man. He didn't believe what he saw. He didn't believe the pieces of French toast were real. He didn't believe the plate of sausages was real. He didn't believe the two sunny-side ups were real. He didn't believe the buttermilk pancakes were real. He didn't believe the coffee in his mug was real. He didn't believe eating at the same table with Cadell was real. He must have hit his head on something.

Ianto looked up from his food and sighed as he saw Nathan staring at his breakfast. "I suggest you eat it," he told him. "It's _your_ money."

Nathan, finally giving in, lifted his fork and took a big piece of French toast to put in his mouth. Once he bit into it, his eyes closed and he let out a long moan. Ianto stifled a chuckle as Nathan began attacking his breakfast plate as if he hadn't eaten for ages.

"This is so good," he managed to say in between gobbles. "When the hell have you learned to—" He took a sip of his black coffee with sugar. "—this is the best coffee I've ever tasted." He looked at the other who had a smug smirk plastered on his face, quietly taking the praises in.

"How did you…" Nathan thought. He didn't know what to say; what to ask. Instead, he continued, "…know how I take my coffee?"

Ianto shrugged. "Intuition."

Nathan managed to laugh, but only for a second. "No, really?"

Ianto's smile dropped when Nathan hadn't believed him yet.

Nathan continued gulping down his food unfazed. "You woke me up early for this?"

"No," Ianto said, sipping his coffee, "I woke you up so you could scream at my face. As always."

Nathan paused, his fork hanging in midair, and raised his eyebrows at the man in front of him. He replied with a grumble, "Not _always_."

"Name a time when you didn't," Ianto retorted.

"I'm not screaming at you right now."

"You just did," Ianto almost chuckled, "before you ogled at my food five minutes ago."

Nathan looked at him shamefaced and sighed in defeat. "All right, fine. I apologize."

Ianto suppressed a grin of triumph and took a sip of his coffee. He glanced at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. "Oh," he said, "I have to get ready for work."

Nathan did a double take, blinking his eyes in surprise. "Work? When did you apply for a job?"

Ianto shrugged as he downed his coffee. "Just recently."

"Interesting." Nathan entwined his fingers and rest his elbows on the table. "So what job is this?"

"Caretaker," Ianto said deadpanned.

Nathan's eyebrows furrowed. "A _janitor_?"

"Yes. In a mall. Is there a problem?"

"In a mall," Nathan echoed, as if trying to convince himself of such strange information. He stared at Ianto with uncertainty gleaming in his eyes.

"You always were supportive of my decisions."

Nathan snorted, shaking his head. "Like your decision to become a full-time malefactor?"

Ianto stared at him with intensity burning in his eyes. Nathan subconsciously gulped, his defensive composure faltering. Ianto let a few more seconds pass before saying, "Enjoy your breakfast," and then turning on his heel to leave the room. Perhaps one would consider this as being overreacting or melodramatic, but deemed this proper for the situation. He was, after all, acting as Cadell, and so he should act as though he's greatly affected by their argument.

He also couldn't help the fact that it served as a reminder of past events he'd given so much effort to remove from memory. Seeing Nathan be skeptical towards everything Ianto was doing to make up for all the wrongdoings his counterpart had done, it touched this certain nerve inside him and saw, instead, Jack looking at him with lost trust and vehemence when Ianto had betrayed him during the Lisa Incident. _Still, he accepted me to be part of the team_, Ianto thought as his insides churned with emotion, e_ven though it was for strategic purpose or…he never really did say why._

He didn't want to see Jack mistrusting him again, even if it's his Alternate Universe Self. And so, he decided to walk away.

Nathan watched him disappear through the doorway before rubbing his face with the palms of his hands, groaning.

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**Author's Notes**: Pretty short. Read and Review? :D


	9. Chapter Eight: Dramatic Exits

**Mirror Image**

**Disclaimers: **Torchwood is not mine. It is owned by BBC One, and created by Russell T. Davies.

**Summary: **They say that mirrors reflect your own self, and shows you exactly who you are. But what if you and your reflection were two different people? He had found out the hard way. Now, Another Ianto is wreaking havoc in Cardiff while the Real Ianto is finding a way to stop this.

**Author's Notes**: Painfully short. Will update again soon to make up for crappiness. The upcoming chapters will focus more on Ianto, just so you'll all know. =)

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Dramatic Exits**

Ianto was quite displeased with himself after the whole dramatic charade he managed to pull off that morning. He thought it completely naïve and tasteless, and he felt he almost destroyed what he was trying to make the other see—that he was as capable, mature and trustworthy as he should be.

But perhaps it wasn't that bad. After all, he didn't want to stray far from the real attitude of his Other Self. A display of slight annoyance and emotional blackmail sounded like something Cadell would do. Ianto was just anxious to know whether it worked or not. Him being him, the whole concept of it was highly unprofessional for his taste.

_Well,_ he mused, _so was shagging the boss during work hours, but I consider it a different matter._

He slapped the wet rag on the table and sat on the bench, drawing a deep sigh. _Torchwood…_ he rested his elbow on the table top and leaned his head against his knuckle. _I wonder what they're doing right now._

**~.::.~**

"You're not going to get any grub by just glowering at me, you know," Cadell sighed as he waved the bar of Dark Chocolate in the air. This, however, still had no effect to the dinosaur standing right in front of him, raising her wings in defense.

"Come on, it's melting, you stupid minger," he seethed. He looked around him to check his teammates in case they had heard him. He looked back at Myfanwy and grumbled. "If you're not eating it then I will." The threat didn't seem to work, either, as he watched her take off and circle above him like a vulture would to a dying prey. If it went on like this, they'd start thinking _he's_ the one with the problem, not the pterodactyl. He started to wonder what it would take to trick even Myfanwy to thinking he's still the same Ianto they knew.

_Or, at least, make her trust me in some way_, he thought.

Then, an epiphany.

He remembered how his dad had taught him '_trust calls,_' as they had dubbed it, so training pterodactyls would be much easier. It only worked on some creatures, however, but it was worth a shot. He cupped his hand over his mouth, aligning the middle finger across the front set of teeth so it lay in the middle of the top and bottom, and then stretching the side of the mouth with his ring finger. After pressing the top and bottom lip on the middle finger, he blew out a long, deafening whistle. This catches the attention of not only Myfanwy, but the rest of the team as well. They spun around in their chairs and rushed to where the sound had originated. At the same time, Myfanwy swooped down screeching towards Cadell who, in alarm, shielded himself with his forearms.

"What's going on?"

"Is it the rift?"

"Is it an alien?"

"Are the machines going down?"

"Was that an emergency alarm I didn't know about?"

"Ianto—?"

They pause on their tracks and inquiries as they see, before them, Myfanwy nestling her head on the crook of Cadell's neck, biting on the Dark Chocolate he had on his hand and cooing in satisfaction.

"Wow," Tosh marveled as she neared Cadell. "Was that a pterodactyl call you just did?"

"Where'd you learn that?" Gwen questioned as she moved closer as Tosh had.

"Uhm," Cadell started, glancing nervously at Jack who had his gaze fixed on Cadell full of expectancy for his answer. "I just tried it. Didn't know what I was doing, really."

"Aw, that's just adorable, love," Gwen giggled as she stroked the back of Myfanwy.

"Could you make her do something else, Ianto?" Tosh asked.

Owen, jealous of the attention Cadell was getting from the girls, grumbled and crossed his arms. He quickly recovered, smirking, and remarked, "Maybe it made her think you're her mam." He chuckled. "I wouldn't blame her. Just by looking at you makes me doubt your bloodline."

Cadell glared at the medic and smirked at Tosh and Gwen. "Actually, I may have a trick up my sleeve." He put Myfanwy down and blew a long whistle and 2 staccato beats an octave lower before pointing at Owen. Owen, unknowing of what will become of him, merely raised an eyebrow.

Myfanwy growled before darting towards Owen screeching.

"Motherfu—" he only managed to mutter before running away from the flying creature. His screaming of expletives was drowned out by the laughter from Tosh and Gwen who both patted Cadell's back in awe before heading to their stations to continue their work.

Cadell was about to do the same when he felt a strong hand grip his arm. He turned his head to look at Jack.

"So, tell me," Jack started. "How did you learn all that?"

Cadell had supposed Jack would ask him sooner or later and had managed to formulate a lie.

"Well, sir, lots of things you can find in the Archives, there are."

"So why didn't you use them before?" Jack pressed further, releasing his grip.

"Well, Myfanwy trusted me enough, so it didn't quite matter. But ever since she started acting strange, I thought I'd give it a go."

For a while, Cadell had thought Jack wasn't going to buy it, but when he broke into an amused grin and said, "Always full of surprises, aren't you, Jones Ianto Jones?" Cadell knew he was still playing the game.

"Being in Torchwood, surprises have become a fad. Wouldn't you agree, sir?" He replied.

Jack moved closer. "You seem to be quite the expert on the subject."

"Like you would never imagine. You're trying to kiss me, aren't you?"

Jack laughed and took a step backward. Cadell stared at him and leant forward, pressing his lips against the Captain's. He pulled back and saw the bemused grin on Jack's face. "Like I said; always full of surprises."

Cadell smirked and kissed him again for, after all, he needed to get used to being affectionate towards the same gender before he goes ballistic with Jack's sexual advances.

**~.::.~**

Ianto snapped a plastic spoon in half, glaring into space and gritting his teeth.

"You okay, mate?"

Ianto blinked and saw Dan, the awkward fellow he had met when he applied for his job, trembling in intimidation. Ianto gave a half-smile and nodded his head. "A thought just occurred in me, is all."

"All right," he said quickly, before continuing where he had left off.

Ianto looked thoughtfully at the broken spoon on his hand. What was that feeling at the pit of his stomach when he wondered about Jack and his Other Self kissing? Jealousy? _Impossible_, he told himself. He had seen how Jack flirted with Gwen, and Gwen batting her eyelashes at him back. Then, he didn't mind. He had been told by Tosh how Jack and the Real Jack had kissed when they had gone through the Rift. It saddened him because, at that precise moment, he had shot Owen on the shoulder with all due respect to Jack's orders, but even so, he didn't mind. He had watched that wretched Captain John Hart kiss Jack in front of the team before leaving through the Rift. He had hated him with every fibre of his being, and maybe, admittedly, puked inside when he watched them kiss, but even so, he didn't mind.

That was how much he respected Jack's personality and inclination to do these things. And, of course, his 51st century pheromones.

But what did he feel when he thought about his imposter and Jack together? What raced across his mind when he snapped the plastic spoon in half? Why, after all the compromise and acceptance, did he finally feel the foreign presence of the green-eyed monster?

"Are you sure you're all right? You look like a cat on hot bricks."

Ianto looked at Dan once again and smiled. "I am."

Dan furrowed his eyebrows in skepticism.

Ianto started to stare off into the distance once again. "Just—" he paused, uncertain of the words to describe the situation, "—missing someone."

"Well, don't miss her too much, mate," Dan warned, gaining enough courage to start a full-blown conversation with him.

"Why's that?"

"Because you just broke a plastic fork. Continue doing so and our daily pay would end up in the charges for utensils. Now I don't mean to offend you, mate, but I would rather have my hard earnings provide me something to chew on and not something to _aid_ me in so. Oh, and your hand is bleeding."

**~.::.~**

When Ianto arrived home, he was surprised to find Italian take-out on the Dinner Table. He almost choked when he suddenly yearned for Chinese.

"What's all this?" he asked Nathan who had just entered the room eating a slice of Italian bread with butter spread.

"Dinner."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Blimey, I wouldn't have guessed." He took his seat with the tomato pasta laid in front of. He began wolfing down the plate before Nathan could even speak.

"I just wanted to, er, thank you for the breakfast a while ago," he said as he watched the pasta lessen with every blink of an eye. "So I thought I should handle our dinner."

Ianto coughed and wiped his mouth with a table napkin. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"And, er…" Nathan stood from his chair and got a box that lay atop the counter before taking his place beside Ianto. "I also wanted to apologize."

Ianto looked inquisitively at the box on Nathan's extended hand. "Apologise?"

"You're absolutely right," he said. "I should, as a—" he paused, hesitant to continue.

"A?" Ianto pressed.

"—a friend—" Nathan paused to look at Ianto's reaction. He only received a look of attentiveness, relaxing his nerves. "—support your decisions. As much as I feel it to be so, I'm not the one who is responsible for your course of action." He laughed in spite of himself. "We're the same age and yet we both acted quite the contrary. I should accept the fact that you're finally acting as you should; it's about time I do too." He motioned Ianto to get the box.

When he did, he opened it and stared skeptically at the eyeglasses he found inside.

"I noticed that you weren't wearing your lenses as often as you used to," Nathan reasoned. "I figured that perhaps you lost it that night when they found you in a warehouse."

_Shit, _Ianto winced, completely forgetting about that small detail of Cadell wearing glasses.

"What?"

"Nothing. But it's green."

"Well, green _is_ your color."

Ianto stared at him.

"Want to try it on?" Nathan asked, examining the lenses for dust particles.

Ianto smiled and replaced the cover. "Maybe later." He put the box down, making a mental note of replacing the lenses with fake ones which he'll have to scavenge for. "Thank you, Nathan."

Nathan sighed and looked fondly at the box.

Ianto noticed this and asked him what was wrong. Nathan merely flinched, saying it was nothing. Ianto politely nodded and stood, stacking the plates, utensils and glasses together to put in the sink.

"I just remembered," Nathan started. Ianto paused and looked at him. Nathan sighed and continued, "I just remembered; you always used to call me '_Nine._'" He laughed. "It's silly, but I think I miss it."

"Nine?" Ianto repeated, confused as to how it came to that.

"Yes," Nathan replied, slightly disappointed at how he thought the other had forgotten. "We met in Second Grade. You couldn't pronounce the '_th_.'"

_Na'un, _Ianto thought, _Nein, Nine. Interesting_. "And it stuck throughout the years."

Nathan's face brightened and he nodded. "Of course, it stopped when—" His eyes suddenly widened, and his expression shifted, turning dark and serious.

"When?" Ianto questioned.

"I'm sorry," Nathan managed to mutter before turning around and briskly walk away.

Ianto stared in confusion at the empty spot where Nathan had been and scratched the back of his head. Later, he'll find himself quite amused at how the both of them are fond of walking out on each other.

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**Further Author's Notes: **Read and review? :D


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